Hero Worship
by mabelreid
Summary: "I never have any normal fans." Someone from Reid's past is out to impress him with a deadly game of "Catch me if you can," and someone in Reid's life might pay the ultimate price.
1. The Cure for Boredom

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Cure for Boredom_**

If asked, he'd tell you the greatest deterrent to true happiness is boredom. Boredom accounted for most of the monumentally stupid things that people did. If not for looking for a way to relieve boredom, people wouldn't risk their lives doing things like extreme skiing, or sky diving, or even climbing mountains. The pursuit of the ultimate adrenaline high, to counteract mind numbing boredom, often led to injury, maiming, and death.

He had no intention of injury. He'd found what everyone else longed for, a way to overcome the boredom of everyday life, or at least he thought he'd found the way. Until today.

She lay sprawled on the metal table he'd converted for his use, her arms and legs chained so that she resembled Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. He studied her as he tried to get his breath back. It had taken a near complete loss of control to achieve his ultimate high with her. He'd beat her so badly her face was unrecognizable. He had no idea how many times he'd stabbed her. The last cut to her throat was so deep; he could see her spinal column.

He looked down at his nude body, and flinched in disgust. The blood normally didn't bother him, for it was necessary to achieve his release, but he'd had to all but swim in hers and the result had been less than satisfactory and inexcusably messy. Hell, it was completely unsatisfactory. He removed the condom he'd worn for his own protection and tossed it into the trash pile of her clothes, and other belongings he'd dispose of later. Well, he'd just have to up the stakes a little in the game and he knew exactly how to do it.

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He felt much clearer after he'd tidied up his workspace, disposed of all her possessions and id, except for the bracelet she'd worn on her right wrist. It was an old-fashioned charm bracelet. He hadn't seen one of those in years. He packed it away in a zip lock bag and locked it into the safe along with other souvenirs he kept hidden behind the false front of his bookshelves.

He'd cleaned up with a long hot shower, and a good fifteen minutes in the little steam room he'd built in his basement. A year ago when his wife had left him for another man, he'd thought it was the end of the world, but now he thrilled to the fact that there was no one there to get in his way. In a way, it was too bad though, if she'd been around when he'd discovered his little hobby, she might have stumbled onto the work, and then he could have practiced on her. Oh, it would have been so thrilling to hear her scream, to feel her trash about under him and watch the crimson red of her blood gush from her veins just at the moment of climax. He went rock hard just thinking about it.

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It was midnight, when he found just the right spot to arrange his surprise for the local authorities. He parked his car under a large elm at the edge of the parking lot. A light breeze freshened the air, but he could still detect the faint odor of her blood, that was as alluring as the bouquet of the finest wine. Her blood still burned in his memory and already the urge to play again was slowly cresting like high tide on his heart.

He looked around, but there was no one in sight. The possibility of someone seeing him only enhanced his fading high. It wasn't enough though, he realized as he opened the trunk and muscled his last experiment to the ground behind the car. She weighed at bit more than the others did, but one had to be flexible when one had his hobby. If one were too rigid in their thinking, they couldn't find transcendence. He'd made the mistake of believing that for too long. Thus the reason for coming here tonight, instead of disposing of her in the same way he had all the others. It was time to up the stakes of the game.

When he had it, all arranged to his liking, he left the sealed envelope where the police would be sure to find it. He was whistling when he got to his feet after one last caress of her face with his gloved hand.

"Good-bye," he said. "Parting truly is such sweet sorrow."

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Detective Prescott Messerly groaned as he got out of his car. His back ached from sitting too long in his office doing paperwork. The night shift had been very quiet until he and his partner, Tony Wo had received the summons to the back parking lot at one of the local Wal-mart stores. A patrol car had found the body and something else.

"Damn, I hate these freaky sexual killings," his partner said.

"Well, let's get to it. The quicker we go over the scene, the faster we can start working for her."

His partner nodded; his black hair so close to the colors of the night, that Detective Messerly wouldn't have been able to make out his head without the aid of light. His eyes were almost as black, but his cheery expression belied his serious job.

"Yes sir," He quipped.

"I told you not to call me that."

Wo smiled, and saluted Messerly who was fifteen years older and had twenty years on the job. "I'll try to remember that, sir."

"You're hopeless," Messerly complained as they ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. "Remind me to put in for a new partner when this is over."

"You've been threatening to do that since our first day together."

The lights set up by the CSI's threw the scene into glaring relief that was nauseating and fascinating at the same time. Messerly's retort died on his lips. "Holy God!"

"You got that right," Wo said, putting one hand over his mouth.

"If you're going to lose it, get out of the perimeter," Messerly barked.

"I'm okay," but he was pale and watery-eyed. "Jesus, sir, what the hell?"

Messerly stepped up to the body. A couple of Crime Scene Techs were snapping pictures and the flashing bulbs lit up the body like some homicidal paparazzo were trying to make a dead celebrity a household name.

"What've we got," he asked the female officer who'd been first on scene. Her mouth trembled and her face was bloodless, but she snapped to attention. "My partner and I were on routine patrol. We took a turn through the parking lot and found her."

Her throat worked. He didn't blame her. The Philly cheese steak he'd had hours ago was making itself known again in a big way.

"Good job securing the scene Officer Pearly." _Geez what a name_, he thought. "If you need to step away…"

"I'm fine sir. We found the body and called it in. We secured the scene and have been standing. There was no one here when we found her."

She nodded to her partner who was as tall and dark as she was tiny, blond and white. They both looked at each other then back at the body, their eyes drawn there as if it was terribly fascinating. Well, he could relate to that.

"Start the canvas. See if there're any open businesses that might have seen anything. It's probably a wash, but do it anyway, and talk to the working girls if there's any in a three block radius."

"Yes sir."

They both left with the speed of bystanders that know they shouldn't be staring at some kind of terrible traffic accident. He wanted to run too, but he knew he had to stay.

"Sir," one of the techs, a small man with thinning blond hair and grey eyes like chips of ice appeared in front of him. "We found something you should see."

He walked around the body to her left side. "We found this clutched in her hand."

Messerly and Wo snapped on gloves. Wo took the sealed envelope and flipped it over. On the front, it had one name like an invitation.

"Did you run the name?"

The tech shook his head. "I just found it. Want me to bag it and we'll run it at the lab."

"No, I'll take it."

Wo met his eyes. "What's wrong sir?"

"Not here, let's walk."

Wo followed Messerly to the crime scene tape, under it and back to their car where they climbed inside and shut the doors. "I know this guy," he tapped the envelope.

"Who is it?"

"Right before I started training you, we had a seminar with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Oh, the profilers."

"Yes, this guy is their resident genius. He's some kind of wunderkind that hit the FBI running and started at the BAU when he was twenty two which is unheard of in the Bureau."

"What's he got to do with this?"

Messerly glanced wearily at his partner. "I don't know, but we're going to find out. Get on the horn and get me the FBI. We need to talk to Dr. Spencer Reid now, tonight."


	2. I Never have any Normal Fans

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n I neglected to set a timeline for this story with the first chapter. It takes place after the seventh season, so there's not Emily. _**

**_I Never have any Normal Fans_**.

Reid stretched like a cat. He sighed long and loud, and reached both arms up over his head. "Hmm, I suppose we should go to bed," he said to the woman curled up on top of him.

They were lying on her long, chocolate leather couch. She hugged his waist and groaned. "I don't want to move Spencer Reid, and you can't make me."

He laughed. "It's three in the morning."

"So, neither of us has to work tomorrow, oh I mean today," she corrected glancing at the clock on her DVR.

"You're right, let's just stay here."

He pulled the knitted blanket he'd made for her, tight around them and sighed again. "I'm so glad you were up for a Star Wars marathon with me."

"Just as long as you don't make me sit through Episodes 1-3 and I'll be happy."

"What's wrong with 1-3?"

"They're inferior prequels, Spencer. Come on, you can't tell me that Jar-Jar Binks doesn't drive you to distraction."

He refused to meet her eyes, which were so blue, they were nearly purple. He decided to look at her long, wavy blond hair that was a bit mussed from his fingers constantly stroking it while they'd watched the movies together.

"Alright, he is very annoying, but the story of Anakin Skywalker is fascinating from a profiling standpoint."

"Oh really," she sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Pray tell, do enlighten the class, Professor Reid."

He tugged on the end of her hair. She always smelled like plums and cinnamon. He breathed it in and closed his eyes. Carolyn Strickland was the best thing to come into his life in a long time. Perhaps his mother had been right when she said that when he was ready, the right one would come along, but it sure seemed like it took excessively long for his liking.

"Hey, are you going to tell me or not."

She nudged his shoulder hard with one cute little finger.

"I don't think so. I don't like your tone."

She laughed. "Sorry, sir, I promise I'll be good." She snuggled back into his arms and kissed his chest.

"Well, Anakin never had a father. His mother raised him and they were both slaves so they were treated lower than the animals. He had these abilities that no one could explain to him, that set him apart from everyone else."

Carolyn sat up again and cupped his chin in one hand. "You do know that he's a character in a story and you are you."

"You have to admit that there are similarities."

"Well yes, but the big difference is that your mother is still alive, and you haven't gone to the dark side as it were."

"I know, but -"

"Spencer, it's three in the morning. I think we can table this for another day."

He yawned. "You're right. It's just a movie. Let's go to bed."

She winked at him and lowered her voice seductively. "Is that all you think you have to say, sailor, to get me into bed?"

He slapped her butt good-naturedly. "I'll have you know that I'm too tired for that, Ms. Strickland."

The sudden light of challenge in her eyes had him sinking back on the couch since he couldn't run away as she was still sitting on his legs. "I think I can change your mind about that."

"I do love a good challenge," he said, while his fingers began unbuttoning her blouse.

"Yeah, that's my favorite thing about you," she sighed as he reared up and applied his mouth to her neck.

"Shh, I'm trying to concentrate."

Heaven was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. "Shit," she hissed and got up off his lap.

"Don't go," he whined, his hair mussed and his face red.

"It's three fifteen in the morning. You know what that means."

He nodded and reached for his phone. "Damn it," he muttered irritably.

He answered just before it would have gone to voice mail. "Reid."

"_Is this Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI?"_

The voice on the other end of the line was deep and melodious, but it had an edge that Reid didn't like.

"Who's calling?"

"_My name is Detective Prescott Messerly with Richmond PD. I have a situation here and I need you in Richmond ASAP."_

"Detective, I'm sure you're aware that we have proper procedure when we're invited by the local LEOs to consult on a case."

"_I'm aware of that, Dr. Reid, but I have a unique situation. If the press get a hold of what we found with the victim, you're name will be all over the morning news." _

"I don't respond well to threats, detective."

"_It's not a threat, Dr. Reid, it's simply fact. Your name is connected with this case." _

"How?"

"_Not on the phone, please just come to the scene and look at what we found. Then, if you need to, you can call in the rest of your team. In fact, I'd appreciate all the help I can get with this." _

"Alright, where are you?"

Reid took the address from the detective, slapped his phone shut and turned to Carolyn, who'd just re-buttoned her blouse. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay; just remember your place for later."

She gave him lascivious wink.

He lifted her tiny, five-foot body off her feet and held her for a few moments. "I promise I'll remember."

He captured her mouth for a long, soft kiss that sent little tendrils of warmth through his stomach and up to his scalp. She always tasted so sweet, like honey.

"Be careful," she admonished as he set her on her feet.

"Always, I have you to come home to. My God, I don't know how I did this before I met you."

She grinned; her smile lighting up her oval shaped face and her lovely eyes. "You're the luckiest man alive, Spencer."

He grinned at her quip despite the pit in his stomach. Detective Messerly's words of warning weighed down on him like a heavy feather duvet on a hot summer night. He decided that kissing Carolyn was a good idea.

"Go, before they call again," she shooed him away with her hands, but her eyes called to him in a way that was nearly impossible to resist.

"Hey, Reid," she called when he walked away. "I think I might just be falling in love with you."

He smirked over his shoulder. "Hey, Strickland," he said. "There's a 99.9567% chance that I might be falling in love with you, too."

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Reid was relieved to find that when he got to the Wal-mart, that the press hadn't arrived yet. One less problem he had to deal with. He parked his ancient Volvo and stepped out of the car to find a very young officer in front of him with his hand up. "I'm sorry sir, but this is a crime scene. I'll have to ask you to move on."

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid," he held up his badge.

"Oh sorry, sir, we're been ordered to keep back the press and the public."

"Its fine, I completely understand and thank you, Officer…"

"I'm Rindenhouse, sir."

Reid almost laughed as the young cop blushed. "You're doing a fine job, Officer Rindenhouse."

"Thank you, sir, um, Detective Messerly asked me to take you in."

When Reid was introduced to Prescott Messerly, he was surprised to say the least. Messerly was nearly as thin as Reid was and he stood about an inch taller with so much graying brown hair, it was a though the hair had sucked all the vitality from him. His light green eyes were bloodshot and his face white, in the harsh lights.

"Thank you for coming," he said when Reid waved at him and his partner.

"May I see what you found with the victim?"

"I'd like to get your opinion on the victim before I show you the envelope we found."

Reid nodded and entered the circle made by the harsh crime scene lights. He ignored the CSIs and the officers that were erecting a privacy screen around them.

She lay nude, with her arms and legs spread eagle. The wounds to her chest and torso stood out like awful, ragged, black holes in her skin. He saw that she'd nearly been decapitated. He swallowed hard against the bile, trying to climb into his throat. He blanked everything out of his mind, except what had been done to her and concentrated on what he saw and felt about the scene.

"I'm seeing extreme rage and overkill," he said.

"Yeah, I got that," Messerly agreed sourly.

"This isn't his first time. You can tell by the wounds to her body."

Wo and Messerly followed Reid's pointing finger. "There're no hesitation marks." His hand hovered over the slash in her neck. "He's absolutely not conflicted about what he's doing, but something's changed because this demonstrates a near loss of control."

"How do you know, if this is the first of his victims we've seen?" Wo wanted to know.

"Unfortunately, there's plenty of precedence for this behavior."

"Do you know her?" Messerly asked after they all mulled over Reid's words.

"No, I've never seen her before," Reid responded through clenched teeth.

"Are you sure?"

"Detective, I have an eidetic memory. I can't forget any face I've seen."

Wo and Messerly glanced at each other. Reid ignored them and stepped carefully around the body to her head. He snapped on a pair of gloves and knelt down. A look at the back of her head told him the story.

"See here," he pointed out to him as he turned her head. "She was struck from behind. See the evidence of blunt force trauma. I'd have to check with the ME after he or she has finished, but it looks like the body's been sterilized. There's no blood, and just from the look of it, there's no trace either."

"He's right," one of the female CSIs broke in. "So far there's nothing on the body to tell us anything."

They all studied her for several minutes in utter silence, with only the sound of the wind to keep them company and the flapping of the privacy screen against its frame.

"Come on over here, Dr Reid, and I'll show you what we found."

They went to a corner of the scene under one of the big lights, but out from its bright, harsh glow.

"We found it under the body. The CSIs have already processed it for prints and trace. Except for what looks like parking lot asphalt, we've got little to go on.

He handed Reid the evidence envelope. The profiler turned it over and his heart thudded at the sight of his name in black, block letters on the front. He carefully removed it from the bag, and turned it over again, studying the paper stock.

"Do you have a knife?"

Messerly handed him a pocketknife. The note inside was on plain paper that looked cheap and that you could buy it anywhere. It was cream colored and the text was typed.

"_Dear Dr. Reid," _it began

_I've admired your work for many years. You're the best in your field so I'd like to present you with a sample of my work and a new challenge. Please accept her in the spirit with which she was intended, for truly she was exceptional in life. I'm sure you'll be fascinated._

It wasn't signed.

"So this guy knows you?" Wo asked.

"I've written several articles, printed in criminology journals. I've also traveled all over the country working with the BAU. It could be anyone.

Messerly put his hands on his hips and looked up at the sky, which was just beginning to lighten with the coming of the early summer dawn.

"I'd say you have a fan, Dr. Reid."

"I never have any normal fans." Reid remarked.


	3. A Killer's Motivation

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A Killer's Motivation_**

"Hey, pretty boy," Morgan greeted as the team entered the small room in the precinct that the Richmond PD had leant them. He dropped into one chair and smiled, but it was a tight smile. "Thanks for dragging us out on a Sunday morning."

"It's not my fault, Morgan."

"It's never your fault," Rossi pointed out. "Can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes?"

Reid, busy with the original copy of the letter addressed to him, didn't look up at his team, so he missed the look that passed between Messerly and Wo.

Hotch entered last after JJ and introduced the rest of the team to the two detectives. "I'm SSA Hotchner; these are SSAs Jareau, Morgan, and Rossi."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Messerly shook Hotch's offered hand. "I'm Detective Messerly and this is my partner Detective Wo. Your agent has been an invaluable help so far. I'm sorry for the necessity of calling you here on your weekend, but due to the circumstances…"

"It comes with the job," Hotch remarked.

"What've you got so far, Spence?"

He finally lifted his eyes from the file to meet JJ's gaze. "I scanned the note and the envelope into the computer, but they don't tell us very much. We should look at the crime scene photos first."

"Go ahead," Hotch, said as the rest of the team and detectives took seats around the table.

Reid put the pictures up on the white board one by one. "The victim is a Jane Doe for now. She was found in the back parking lot at the Wal-Mart on Sheila Lane. No personal items or clothing were found with the body."

"The un-sub disposed of them or he took souvenirs," JJ observed.

"The ME took her prints and Garcia is running them. She'll call us back if she finds anything."

"He really did a number on her, total overkill." Rossi observed. "Do we have any idea what kind of weapon was used?"

"I just talked to Dr. Rainy. She determined the blades used were smooth. They aren't kitchen blades," Wo answered.

"What are they?"

Wo addressed Hotch, with an awe in his eyes that made Reid smile just a little. "Dr. Rainy said the knives are comparable to the kind she uses."

"Are we thinking he has medical training?" Morgan wondered.

"We can't rule it out, but I think it's just another forensic countermeasure, like taking her personal items, cleaning the body, and typing the note," Reid said.

"Let's take a look at the note," Hotch said.

Reid activated the small projector on the table and the document appeared on a blank section of the white board.

"The fact that it was typed rather than written is telling. He does not want us to analyze it or possibly identify him some way. Maybe he's in the system," Rossi postulated.

"But, he wanted Reid here personally," JJ said, concern darkening her cobalt blue eyes.

"That's what's bothering me," Hotch admitted.

"I think we can use that to our advantage," Detective Messerly said. "If this 'un-sub' as you call him, is a fan, we can manipulate him."

"No way man," Morgan interjected angrily. "You're not -"

"You can't use Reid as bait," JJ agreed.

"Settle down everyone," Hotch interrupted.

"You can't let the locals use an agent," Morgan tried again.

"The un-sub wants him involved," Rossi cut in smoothly and calmly as though talking to an audience about his latest book. "Why else leave the note?"

"Reid knows who he is," Hotch said and everyone stopped arguing as though someone had turned the volume off in the room.

"That's what I figured," Messerly said.

"Which is why you called him first," JJ added after a long minute. "You thought he was involved."

"Reid isn't involved with some crazy un-sub," Morgan exploded. "What's wrong with you?"

"Morgan, sit down," Hotch commanded, his eyes blazing.

"Look, I don't know your agent, and I have to take into account every possibility," Messerly said. Hotch burned Morgan to the ground with a withering stare when he tried to speak again. Morgan sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and glared at the white board.

"The detective's right to be suspicious," Reid said so quietly, it was as though he spoke in the middle of a library.

"You can't be serious, man," Morgan was clenching and unclenching his jaw and his hands. He looked mad enough to murder a small kitten.

"It's a logical assumption, albeit a low probability. This un-sub wants my attention and here we are."

Morgan hissed out a breath and rubbed one hand over his baldhead. "You're right," he admitted. "You're always right."

Everyone exchanged tense smiles, except for Hotch.

"Maybe Dr. Reid shouldn't be here if this guy wants him here. What if he tries to go after him?"

Everyone exchanged looks, except for Reid who was studying the photos. Wo had put into words what they all were thinking. "No," Hotch broke the silence like a hammer through a plate glass window. "We're distracted, which is what this man wants. He wants Reid involved in this; he won't try to hurt him."

"Then what does he want," Messerly demanded of them.

"We need to go back to the victim," Rossi said. "Find out everything we can about her and she'll lead us to him.

"Morgan, I want you and Reid to go back to the crime scene. We'll stay here and go through missing person's reports. We need to ID the victim as soon as possible and we need to know if there are other missing women that fit her profile."

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The rear parking lot at Wal-mart was almost completely deserted. Reid took a second look around wondering where all the press was on that Sunday morning. _Maybe just one murder isn't enough to interest them. _

There was a black and white there, along with the yellow crime scene tape marking off the area where the victim had lain. The privacy screens were gone, and so were the CSIs, but the scene still had the feel that something evil had taken place when whoever was in charge of the cosmos wasn't looking.

They parked several feet from the black and white and had exited when the two officers got out of the car. The first man was stocky, walked with a military bearing, and had a round face with grey eyes that reminded Reid of the sea during a storm, slate and hard as a rock. He didn't smile, and his brush cut brown hair bristled from his head as if in sincere annoyance. His partner had a square face that was open and friendly with dark brown eyes, and skin that was a few shades darker than Morgan's. He was about Morgan's build with very short black hair that was just beginning to recede. He grinned at them with blinding white teeth.

"You must be the feds," said the stocky build. "I'm Officer Tripp and this is Officer McCall. Detective Messerly asked us to hang with you two while you look over the scene. He hates the press and civilians mucking things up."

Reid and Morgan looked at them and then at each other. Reid nearly grinned at Morgan's lifted eyebrows.

"Thanks for the help. This is Dr. Reid and I'm SSA Morgan."

"Take all the time you need. We'll be here."

They stepped under the tape and walked to the edge of the parking area. "I've got one question," Morgan said. "Why Wal-mart? What's he thinking?"

"Well, this building runs right up on a residential area," Reid pointed at the block privacy wall fronted with a strip of grass and some flowerbeds. "The parking lot's between it and the wall. There's one entrance over there," he pointed left. "And another building to the right. The risk is minimal if you get here at the right time of night. Detective Messerly said the ME figured the time of death at about three pm and she was in the parking lot for about an hour before the patrol found her. That means he was here around midnight on a Saturday night. This store closes at 10 pm on Saturday, so he'd be pretty safe."

"Yeah…" Morgan paced back and forth. "Okay, she was left nude, and posed spread eagle, an extremely vulnerable position. She didn't mean anything to him except an attempt at the ultimate high every serial killer looks for."

Reid nodded, "No, this isn't his fist time, and yes she was worthless to him. He's not feeling any remorse for his actions."

"He blitzed her, why?"

"Perhaps he's not confident enough to approach her directly. He probably stalked her and then knocked her out when the right opportunity presented itself."

Morgan rubbed his head. "I think he left her where he found her. We should have Garcia look into missing persons in this area specifically. If she's from around here then maybe he saw her here."

Reid nodded, but his eyes were far away. "Maybe he didn't stalk her; she could just be a victim of opportunity."

"No," Morgan disagreed. "He's too careful in the aftermath. Why just pick someone at random and then clean up after yourself so carefully."

He realized that Reid was still staring off into space. "Hey, pretty boy, what's bothering you?"

"I was just wondering how many of my 'fans,' he made quotations with his fingers, "are going to contact me."

"Reid, don't freak out on me, man."

"I'm not freaking out. You have to admit that the odds are high. Look at Henry Grace."

Now Reid was pacing back and forth along the curb dividing the grass and flowers from the parking lot.

"He wanted revenge on Rossi, it wasn't about you," Morgan reminded him.

"Yeah, but next time -"

Morgan held up both hands. "You are freaking out on me. There isn't going to be a next time. This is just a sick mind playing with you. If you let him interrupt your famous concentration, then he wins. Is that what you want?"

Reid shook his head. "No, you're right of course. I'll try not to let it get to me."

"That's all I ask."

Morgan's phone beeped. "Morgan."

"_Hey stud." _

"Baby girl, what ya got for me?"

"_I don't think you can handle what I've got." _

"Did you call me just to get my blood up?" Morgan demanded cheerfully.

"_No, but I've got an ID on your victim."_


	4. The Bearers of Bad News

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Bearers of Bad News_**

"Have I told you lately, you're my goddess?" Morgan asked as Reid came in closer.

"_No, you haven't, but that's a conversation for another time. Your victim is one Sandra Brewster. She's twenty-nine, and a native of Virginia. Her sister Amy put in a missing person's report on her just this morning."_

"When was the last time anyone saw her?"

"_Her sister said she had a date Friday night. Apparently, she met some guy online and he asked her out. When she wasn't home by the next morning, her sister called the police. Technically, they couldn't do anything because she hadn't been gone for the standard forty-eight hours." _

Morgan frowned and rubbed at his head. "Baby-girl, there's nothing they could have done anyway. She was already gone."

"_I know, Derek, but it doesn't make it any easier. What are you going to tell her sister?"_

"We'll say what we always say, that we're sorry for her loss and we'll do whatever it takes to get this guy."

"_I don't envy you, your job."_

Morgan smiled a little. "Right now, neither do I."

"_I'm sending the sister's address to your handhelds. I'll let the rest of the team know." _

"Thanks baby girl."

He hung up and turned to Reid

"What?" Reid asked.

"We've got to deliver the notification to family."

Reid took one last look around the parking lot. The morning breeze had picked up again and he shivered despite the temperature already in the seventies. He thought for one long moment that he could detect the odor of death, even though hours had passed since the ME had taken her away. Odd, she hadn't been dead long enough for decomposition to taint the air with its malodorous stench. Why, then, should he smell it on the wind? His took in another breath as the breeze shifted again; bringing only the scent of newly cut grass and perfume from the flowers that surrounded the store. Suddenly, it was as if nothing had happened and he didn't know if he should smile or frown.

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The apartment building looked as if it had opened for business just that afternoon. The sign at the left of the entrance road read "Timber Arms," in gold on a forest green background with gold fir trees painted around the name of the complex.

"Building seven," Reid reminded Morgan, who carefully piloted the SUV around the corner of the office building. He jammed the brake to the floor when two teenage boys entered the roadway on skateboards. They rolled past whooping and hollering. Morgan swore as they laughed at him.

"Little shits," he said.

"Take it easy," Reid replied.

"Don't tell me to take it easy. Those kids came right out in front of me. I could've killed one, or both of them. Where're their parents for God's sake? They should be keeping an eye on them. What's the matter with people these days, letting their kids run around like that? I'd never let my kid do that. I mean look at those two…. Oh, what am I saying, Reid."

"The building is right over there."

Morgan parked in a section of non-assigned parking that faced a little strip mall behind the complex. "Sorry, Reid, I didn't mean to get on that rant."

"It's okay. It's a normal reaction to the stress we're under. We're about to deliver the worst possible news."

Morgan chuckled. "When you're right, Dr. Reid, you're right. Come on, let's get it done.

Sherrie Brewster lived on the third floor in apartment 3C. She opened the door and her face went as white as cottage cheese when they showed their badges.

"Oh God, its Sandra. Is she okay? Did you find her? I want to see her. Please let me see her. She's all I have you see, our parents are dead and -"

"Ma'am," Morgan began. "May we please come in?"

She nodded and Reid saw that her hands were trembling. She led them into a small living area with a couch and two chairs. "Please, tell me where she is."

"Ms Brewster, Sandra was found early this morning. She'd been murdered."

Sherrie dropped onto her knees and wailed. "No, it's not true. You made a mistake, that's all. You need to get back out there and find Sandra."

She leaped back up to her feet, almost bowling Morgan over despite her medium build and height. "You have to find her." She shouted at him.

"It's not a mistake, Ms. Brewster. We positively ID'd her with her fingerprints from employment records."

"It's not true," she curled up on the couch and began to rock back and forth."

"I wish I could say it wasn't true." Morgan said gently. "I promise you, we'll find out who did this."

She dissolved into tears. Morgan flicked his eyes up to Reid. "Why don't you get her some water?"

Reid found the kitchen and hunted up a glass. The single window at the east end was cracked open so that the breeze stirred the bright yellow curtains into a sinuous dance that made the horrible atmosphere of grief into a grotesque parody. He decided to concentrate on getting the water for her, instead of looking at the sunshine.

She'd calmed down by the time he got back. Her eyes blazed up at Morgan over the glass. "Promise me you'll get the bastard that did this. Sandy took care of me after mom and dad died in a car accident when we were teenagers. She worked hard, going to school and working so we could afford a better life. We finally got this place together. She always wanted to be a teacher. She loves working with kids. They're going to miss her. I should call her work -"

"Don't worry about that now. My partner and I would like to ask you some questions if you're up for it."

She shook her head. "I don't know. I just want to die too."

"Anything you can tell us about Friday night and the last couple of weeks would be helpful."

She looked up at Reid. "I don't know. She met this guy and she was really excited. She kept going on and on about how handsome he was and how nice he seemed. He asked her out and she said she'd meet him. She didn't want him coming here because you know how it is these days. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, it was just that…" She shrugged her shoulders and sat up straight.

Reid took one of the chairs and nodded. "I guess it is safer for women to meet a man somewhere neutral."

The corners of her mouth turned up in tremulous smile. "Yeah, she's the more cautious of the two of us. I'm likely to go out with total strangers, where she says she has to get to know them first. Oh, do you think he was the one… that bastard."

She jumped up again and hurried to the door. "His name is Gerry. What are you waiting for, go, get him?"

"Ms Brewster, we do want to talk to him, but we don't know if he hurt her. She might have run into trouble after the date," Morgan put in.

She sagged again and nearly fell. Morgan hauled her up and helped her back to the couch. "Do you know his full name?"

"Oh, no, she just said it was Gerry. I was surprised when she said she met him online. I should have asked her. Why didn't I ask her?"

She curled up and began to cry again. Reid just looked at Morgan. He definitely did not know what to do with crying women.

"It's not your fault," Morgan assured her. "Anything you can tell us is helpful."

She sniffed, and reached for a little cardboard box decorated with white lilies that contained what her mother always called nose pillows. She blew her red nose and sighed. "I just can't believe this."

"Sherrie," Morgan encouraged. "Anything you can tell us."

"He's some kind of big wig with a financial firm in town. I wish I could remember the name. I think they're all stockbrokers."

"Where did she say she was going to meet him?" Reid asked.

"Oh, it was halfway between where they worked. She worked at Springville Elementary, and he was downtown. They met at some coffee shop on Fifteenth Street I think."

"Thanks Sherrie, that'll help." Morgan assured her again.

"Is there someone we can call for you?" Reid asked.

"No, like I said she was everything to me. Can you tell me what I'm going to do without her?"

Reid sighed when they left the building fifteen minutes later. "I hate that."

"Yeah, not one of the more enjoyable parts of the job."

They got in the truck and Morgan pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Hey baby girl, I've got some digging that only you can do..." Reid looked out the window as Morgan talked to Garcia. For the first time since he'd left Carolyn's apartment, his head was filled with thoughts of her and how they'd met at a supermarket on a Sunday afternoon.

_He'd walked around the corner from the cereal aisle to the paper goods aisle. The only other person in the wide aisle was a tiny woman with long, wavy blond hair. She had a small, curvy figure that made his hands sweat as he looked at her. She was reaching for something on the top shelf, but it was too high for her. _

"_Damn it!" _

_He nearly smiled at her curse. He wanted to go help her, but she'd probably laugh at him if he did. He turned to get a roll of paper towels instead. _

"_Hey."_

_He jerked and dropped his roll of paper towels, which rolled nearly to the feet of the woman. _

"_Can you help me?"_

_Her face, beautiful and smiling, rendered him utterly unable to speak. She stared at him with some irritation. "I just need that box of Kleenex on the top shelf if you don't mind." _

_He walked over to her because he didn't have control over his feet for some reason. He smelled the perfume she wore as he reached for the box above her head. It reminded him of plums and he breathed it in as he handed her the box._

"_Thanks." _

_Her voice was like music, and her dark blue eyes spoke to something inside him that yearned for something more than what he had in his life. _

"_You're welcome," he managed to say. _

"_I hate being five feet tall. They make everything for the average person or taller." She said irritably. _

_He liked her irritation; it made her beautiful eyes spark. His heart took off beating and he could barely speak._

"_I think they make these shelves for people over six five, actually." _

_She laughed and his head felt light as air. "So what's your name?"_

_He nearly gaped at her. A woman was asking for his name. He couldn't think of it. He had to say something though, or she'd think him an idiot and walk away. Oh, he couldn't let her walk away. _

"_Um, it's Reid, um I mean Spencer Reid, Dr. Spencer Reid." _

_She grinned up at him. "Well, Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm Dr. Carolyn Strickland." _

"_Where do you practice?" They both said together and then laughed. _

_He felt so light headed now; he thought he might pass out. "I'm not a medical doctor." _

"_Oh, well I work in the Pediatric wing at the University Hospital." _

_He pulled out his badge. "I'm an FBI agent." _

_She pointed at his gun on his hip. "I thought you might be a cop at first. It's why I asked you for help."_

"_Oh," he hoped he didn't sound too disappointed. _

"_Well, that and you're the best looking law enforcement officer I've ever seen." _

_He blinked. "Really!" He cursed himself for his squeak._

"_Yeah, why don't I give you my number?" _

"Hey Reid."

He turned his head to see that Morgan was backing out of the parking space. "What?"

"You look deep in thought. What's in that head of yours?"

"I'm just thinking about Sandra and Sherrie," he lied. "I just can't believe, after losing their folks that this happens."

"Yeah, well I've got Garcia on the trail of this guy Sandra met. It's probably a long shot, but he was the last one to see her."

"Yeah… let's get back to the precinct."

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm just tired, getting called out at three am."

"You'd think we'd be used to it by now."

"I guess not," Reid said.

"I guess we're not."

Morgan grew silent as they drove back to the police station. Reid's thoughts returned to the case, but Carolyn was in the back of his mind and he hoped it wouldn't be days before he saw her again.

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He'd had the television on all morning, since he'd woken at five and there was nothing about his exploits on the news. _How could that be? _He raged up and down, his feet whispering over the thick, spotless, cream hued carpet. He didn't stop to appreciate the texture on his bare feet because anger threatened to overwhelm his carefully cultivated peace.

_Why? _

The involvement of the FBI in the murder, because he had invited them there, should have been all over the television, but it wasn't.

_Why?_

It should have been big news. After all, Richmond wasn't New York City where murders were a dime a dozen. The FBI should have rated at least some interest from the jackals at the news agencies.

He sat on the edge of his king size, four-poster bed and decided that all this anger was counterproductive. It was time to up the stakes just a bit. He looked up into the mirror over the antique dresser across from his bed and smiled. Already, the life draining boredom that had spoiled his carefully planned fun was dissipating. If he had to endure stall tactics from the FBI, well, that was all right. He'd just proceed with his plans to up the stakes of the game, now.

After carefully dressing in his new, perfectly tailored suit, which was navy large windowpane, with white stripes, matching pants and a white shirt, he knotted on a matching tie with two diagonal white stripes, and smoothed back his hair. He pulled on navy socks and black shoes polished to a mirror shine. At least he had the comfort of the best clothing to help ease his irritation.

After one last look in the mirror, he brushed a bit of lint off one sleeve and hurried out of the room to his office. One of the best parts about his little hobby was choosing his next victim. Luckily, he had time to go make sure that his contingency plan was still in place.


	5. Suspect Number One

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Suspect Number One _**

"Garcia, what've you got on Gerald Rivers," Hotch asked as Reid and Morgan entered the conference room.

"Sir, Mr. Rivers works for Rivers, Harriman, and Lott," she began over the speakerphone. "He's one of the brokerages founding partners. They've been in business since 2005. The housing bubble hit them hard, but they've bounced back a little in the last year or so. As far as I can tell, he's completely clean. He's well educated, single, and if his picture does him justice, he is fine indeed. Too bad he might be a sleazebag killer."

"Don't sound so disappointed, mama."

"I'm not, just saying."

Smiles went around the table except for Hotch, who glowered as usual.

"Thanks Garcia, see what else you can dig up for us."

"If Mr. Perfect has any skeletons in his closet, I'll dig them out and hang them out to dry."

Hotch clicked off the phone and Rossi said. "It always amazes me how much she can dig up on someone with just first name and location."

Chuckles pierced some of the tension that had held the room in its tight grip since the rest of the team had arrived.

"How do you want to do this Dave? Hotch asked. "He's likely to lawyer up if we haul him in here for interrogation."

"Why don't we say that we need to talk to him because he might be a witness? He's a financial big shot; it might appeal to his sense of importance. If he's the one that invited Reid into his world, then he wants to insert himself into the investigation."

"Is his name at all familiar to you, Reid?"

Reid looked up from the same note he'd memorized, but couldn't stop looking at. "No, I've been racking my brain, and I don't know anyone with that name, I and don't recognize his face. I wish I did, it'd make this easier."

"I'd say racking your brain must be quite a job considering how much must be in there," Rossi teased.

"There's a lot more that _isn't_ in my brain."

"Well I say we send JJ in with him when he gets here."

Everyone including JJ turned there eyes on Rossi.

"Why me?"

"Because you resemble the victim," he pointed out. "You'll make him feel more comfortable."

"I agree," Hotch said. "Are you up for it?"

"Yeah, I can handle it. In fact, I'm looking forward to it."

"Morgan, you and I'll go to his office with Detective Messerly. Reid, I want you to stay out of sight when we bring him in. I don't want him to see you unless we need to spring a surprise."

Reid nodded. "I'll stay here until you've got him into interrogation. I'd like to continue going over these missing person's reports with Detective Wo in case we've got the wrong guy."

"I agree," Wo said. "We shouldn't take for granted that we've got the right guy."

Hotch nodded, "JJ you and Rossi, help out in here while you wait? Let's profile any female missing persons that fit the physical profile of Sandra Brewster. Set them aside, but don't rule out anything."

"Sure Hotch," She pulled a few files folders across the table. "Come one Spence; let's see what we can see."

Wo took a stack and moved three chairs closer to Reid, JJ and Rossi. Reid stood up and stretched his arms up over his head. "I'm going to go get coffee. You guys want a cup."

JJ grinned over her first folder. "No thanks, but you go. We know how much you like your coffee."

"Yeah, I've had enough for one morning," Wo agreed.

"Any more for me and my kidneys will never forgive me." Rossi said distractedly.

Hotch followed Reid out of the conference room. "Reid, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you look exhausted," Hotch observed, "Have you had trouble sleeping?"

If he'd had his longed for cup of coffee and if he'd already take a sip of his beloved beverage, he'd probably choked on it. Luckily, he didn't feel his face going red.

"No, I just stayed up too late last night. There was a Star Trek marathon on and I watched it. I know I should know better, but I wasn't counting on the early morning call. Pretty stupid for me," he said.

Hotch actually smiled. "I was counting on getting up this morning and playing with Jack. He loves to practice soccer with me, just the two of us together. Beth was going to come over for brunch and then we were going to the park."

"How's Beth?"

They stopped at the little coffee station set up in one corner of the bullpen. Reid reached for the coffee as soon as one of the female officers walked away with the first steaming cup of a newly brewed pot.

"She's great. Jack seems to really like her."

"What about you?"

"I like her too." Reid almost smiled when Hotch's face shut down and he said. "Well, if you're sure you're okay, we'll be back soon with Rivers."

"I'll be ready."

He watched Hotch leave as he added some sugar to the cup he'd poured. Hotch would always be intensely private about his life. Reid decided that was a good thing because he'd learned a thing or two about secrets. The last six months of having, Carolyn in his life was the best six months in his life, in part because no one on the team knew about her. She was the only thing he had that was just for him and he'd always fight to keep it that way.

He looked at his watch. It was only ten am, and he wondered if she'd be awake after staying up so late. It was worth disturbing her, because he needed to hear her voice. She'd become a balm to his soul and he desperately needed the calm she could give him. If they were wrong about this Gerald Rivers, then he'd need her strength, because now the killer had made it personal.

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Carolyn wrapped a towel around her head and slipped on her robe. She hadn't been able to sleep more than four hours since Spencer had left that morning. Every time he had to leave for a case, she wondered if this time, something would happen to him.

If only he'd call her and let her know how he was doing. The temptation to pick up her phone and dial his number was overwhelming, but they had agreed to keep their relationship out of the office. Instead, she thought about the first time he'd called her number. When she'd met him and impulsively given him her number, she'd never thought he would, he was so adorably shy.

_She'd just opened her apartment door after a long shift at the hospital. She'd lost one of the kids that had come in after an automobile accident and she just wanted to sit down with a beer and try to forget. Where were all the scabs that doctors were supposed to get over their feelings? _

_Her phone beeped and she frowned at the unknown number. It might be someone trying to sell her something. She let it ring twice more before deciding to let it go to voicemail. She decided to fix some of the leftover Greek salad she'd made over the weekend for dinner. _

_An hour later, she checked her messages and found one that made her smile so hard it hurt her mouth. _

"_Um, hi, um you probably don't remember me. Um, this is Reid, I mean Dr. Spencer Reid from the store, I mean from the FBI. We met at the store the other day. I'm sorry I didn't call you. I, um, well I thought I'd ask if you'd like to go out with me. Um, there's a movie playing at the Globe, a sci-fi movie. Um, well I don't know if you like that, so um if you don't you don't have to call back. It's okay. If you do um this is my number." He rattled off his number so fast she had to listen twice. "So, um thanks. Bye." _

_She almost laughed aloud, not because he was funny, but because he seemed so cute and nervous, just like he'd been in person. She'd hoped he'd call, but had nearly given up after two weeks went by. _

_She called him right back and the way his voice squeaked when he talked was so adorable she nearly laughed. At least they were getting somewhere, and she did like sci-fi very much. It happened that the Globe was playing a double feature of the original "Invasion of the Body Snatchers and the Last Man on Earth," two of her favorites. _

Her cell phone began to play his ring tone, interrupting her memories of that night. "Hey gorgeous," she answered. "I was just thinking about you."

"_You were?"_

"Of course," she said. "I miss you already."

"_I miss you too. I just wanted to check in and let you know that I'm going to be awhile, but I'm coming home tonight. I won't be flying out anywhere this time." _

"I'm glad to hear it. When do you think you'll be able to get away?"

"_I don't know, hopefully it won't be too late. I have to say I'm exhausted already." _

"I hope you're not too tired to remember how rudely we were interrupted this morning."

"_I didn't forget. I'll call you when I'm ready to leave." _

"Love you, Dr. Reid."

"_Love you too, Dr. Strickland." _

He ended the call and she frowned. Something was definitely wrong. There was more than just the typical case. He didn't like to talk about his cases, but maybe she could distract him with a little TLC when he got home.

In the mean time, she'd clean up the place a little. She'd have dinner ready for him when he walked in and perhaps some of the weight he carried on this shoulders would lift and he'd smile for her.

If they were lucky, they could catch an old rerun of "The Twilight Zone," on the Sci-Fi channel. Then she'd make sure he got good nights sleep and she'd be supportive if he had to spend another day in Richmond.

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He pulled up across the street from her apartment building. The file folder on the seat next to him had every detail he'd been able to glean about her. It really was too bad because she was every bit as beautiful as the others were. He'd like to make her apart of his collection, but she was more useful to him as a way to up the stakes of the game.

He watched the window of the sixth floor apartment, waiting to catch a glimpse of her and working out a way to grab her for advantage if he needed it. He didn't stay too long because this area was well patrolled and his presence would be noticed if he stuck around.

He pulled another folder from his bag and flipped it open. It was early, but he needed something else to give to the FBI. This time, he'd make sure they couldn't stop the press from sticking their noses into the investigation. Soon, he would be a famous as Jack the Ripper, or Ted Bundy, or even more recently, Frank Brietkopf, whom the very BAU had stopped. Of course, they were all dead. He wouldn't go out as they had. He had something different planned and it was going to over shadow all of his heroes.


	6. Interrogation 101

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Interrogation 101 _**

Reid watched from the observation room, just on the other side of the two-way glass as JJ entered the room with Mr. Gerald Rivers. He was a big man, nearly six three in Reid's estimation and two hundred pounds, but a well toned two hundred pounds. His suit, tailored to fit, was dark charcoal grey with tiny gold pin striping on the coat. His shirt was blinding white with just a touch of cuff showing at the ends of the sleeves. His tie matched the suit, and he wore a scarlet handkerchief in the front pocket. He'd combed back his chestnut colored hair off his forehead. He had a chiseled face as if cut from granite, but it looked hard to Reid, not handsome, as Garcia had said.

_Maybe you had to be a woman to appreciate his aesthetics._

Rivers turned to JJ and gave her a blinding smile that Reid supposed he meant for his clients. It didn't touch his eyes, which were grey-green, direct and compelling as they met her gaze. She smiled back at him and took her seat across from him so that Reid could only see the back of her head.

"Mr. Rivers, the Bureau would like to thank you for coming down here today."

"Well, the agents and the cop that came to my place made it seem like I didn't have a choice. Still, if you're my interrogator, today, I really don't mind at all."

His voice was high, and just a little on the feminine side, which surprised Reid. It reminded him of an orderly at Bennington that he didn't particularly like.

"Why don't we just call me your… interviewer? Let's not get off on the wrong foot."

"Oh, I don't think it'd be possible to get off on the wrong foot with you, sweetheart."

"Funny, my husband calls me that, sounds a lot better coming from him."

Even though he couldn't see her face, Reid was sure that JJ's eyes were disdainful rather than flirtatious. He'd had that look pointed at him enough to know that he'd know it if he saw it.

"I do have work you know." River's tone suddenly changed to ice. "The market waits for no man and, in my business, time literally is money."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rivers, if you were inconvenienced. It's just that you were the last one to see Sandra Brewster alive and we'd like to know if anything odd stood out that night."

"I don't know what you could possibly think I'd know about that night. I met Sandra online. We hit it off, talking through email, then instant messaging. We progressed to the phone very fast and talked every night for two weeks before we went out. I asked her to dinner, and we went to a concert at the symphony. We went our separate ways at a little after midnight and that was that. I liked her and I had plans with her next weekend."

"Gerald, may I call you Gerry," JJ asked and Reid was sure she was giving him her patented "I'm a harmless federal agent," smile. "I'm curious why you didn't pick her up at her apartment. Isn't that usually how it's done these days?"

"A real piece of work so far," Rossi murmured at Reid's side.

"Yes he is."

"I wanted to pick her up, but she said she had a rule about men in her place. It was a no-no, security you see."

"Yes, I can see why," JJ, said.

Rivers threw back his head and laughed. "Look, why don't we stop pretending. You brought me in here because you think I had something to do with her murder. I'm letting you think you tricked me because I have nothing to hide."

He held his hands wide as if to show her he was perfectly harmless.

JJ opened a folder and slid a paper across to him. "Why did you do an extensive background check on Sandra Brewster? You've got her address right here. You could have staked her out, made your move and when she turned you down for the after concert activities to which you felt you were entitled, it pissed you off."

"Now wait just a damn minute I never -"

"Come on Rivers," JJ's voice dropped into arctic tones that would have made Reid shiver if he wasn't enjoying this man's discomfiture so much. "You're a successful financial planning advisor. You're not doing as well as you were seven years ago, but you've still got money. You felt like you wasted that money because you failed to get Sandra Brewster into bed."

"You're putting words in my mouth."

Now his PR smile was gone, and his eyes had hardened into granite to match his face. They were murderous.

"He's pretty pissed, you think she's okay." Morgan said from behind them.

"Oh yeah, she's just getting him going."

"I have every right to check out the women I date. Haven't you ever heard of better safe than sorry?"

"I have, but that usually applies to men that women check out before a date. She didn't check you out and I have to wonder if that was a mistake."

"How did you get this? I know my rights," he demanded his face going the color of under ripe cherries.

"It's called a warrant," she shoved another piece of paper at him. "We checked out all of your computer activity and it seems like you've been a bad boy. I've seen it all, Mr. Rivers, and believe me your collection of online porn surprised me. You like a little bondage and sadism. Is that what scared her off, or did you convince her to go back to that huge private home you own for fun and games? Did it get out of hand, Gerald?"

"Shut up you filthy little bitch."

"That's it!"

"Morgan," Rossi laid a restraining hand on him. "If and when JJ needs our help, we'll go in there. Until then, back off and calm down."

"I don't have to shut up, Gerry," she said quietly. "Tell me what you did to Sandra Brewster."

"I didn't do anything to that frigid bitch. I spent money on an expensive dinner and tickets to that concert. Do you know how much tickets to the Meyerhof Symphony in Baltimore cost? Not to mention the gas money to get there and back."

JJ sat back on her chair and tapped her fingers lightly on the table.

"There's the signal… She doesn't think he's the one and I'm inclined to agree, but we better make sure." Rossi said as JJ rose to her feet.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you killed her Mr. Rivers. I think you're a dickless and arrogant son of a bitch, but you don't have what it takes to kill someone. You're free to go."

She stood there was he slammed out of the room. Reid had already left the observation room and headed to the men's room. He came out just as Rivers was stalking by like a panther with a sore paw and nearly ran into him.

"Watch where you're going, buddy," the big man snarled. "I'm going to get a lawyer and sue the city and the federal government for every penny they've got."

Reid wanted to point out that in this economy, that wouldn't amount to much and he could make more in the private sector, but the fact that there was no recognition in Rivers' eyes when they collided said it all. He watched until the man had slammed out and then he went to find the rest of this team.

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"So, we got our guy," Messerly asked Reid when he joined them in the conference area.

"No. I didn't recognize him, and he looked at me like all men his size and ego levels do, like I'm another bug to be crushed under their boots."

"Spence -"

He waved JJ off. "Don't worry about it. That kind of thing stopped bothering me when I was still a kid."

"But still -"

"JJ, can we please just get back to finding out who wants me on this case," he snapped.

Everyone except Reid looked around the table at each other. JJ grabbed a file and began to peruse it is if her life depended on it.

"Reid, why don't you and Rossi head out with Messerly and Wo? They're going to talk to the ME. Apparently, she's got more information regarding the victim and something she found that she wants you to see." Hotch directed this to Reid.

"What is it?"

"She wouldn't say," Messerly said. "She called when you were doing your little burlesque with that Rivers character."

"That's okay with me," Rossi said. "Come on kid. It's almost lunch. I'll buy you guys something to eat."

"What about the rest of us?"

"Morgan, you'll have to get your own."

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"Hey April, don't forget the kettle chips, will ya."

April McKee waved back over her shoulder. "When have I ever let you down, Millie?"

"Remember last week."

"Am I ever going to live that down?"

Her friend chuckled. "Just hurry back, because I'm starved."

"Don't freak, I'll be back before you know it."

He watched her leave the building. Her blond hair fluttered back from her face in the wind that had picked up again. She was just the thing for his next message to the FBI.

He could feel the boredom ebbing away, as he contemplated how he'd grab her. This time he'd do it differently, and take her right in the middle of the day. His heart began thumping in his chest just thinking about it. The old excitement was back and he had Dr. Reid and the FBI to thank for it.

He put his car in gear, pulled out behind April McKee, and followed the little blue car out to the main road. Oh how he wished he could let her know somehow that her sacrifice would ensure her immortality just as it would ensure his fame. He'd go down just like all the ones before, and just like Jack, the Ripper they'd never catch him because he was an unstoppable force of nature and soon the whole world would know him.


	7. Mistake or Artiface?

**_Disclaimer: See my profile_**

**_Mistake or Artiface?_**

Reid decided that all Public Health facilities looked alike. They tried hard not to be distinctive, but in their plainness, they stood out. In the case of the Virginia Public Health building, it was short, squat, and built of sand colored bricks and glass. Its sharp corners cut the air around it like a serial killer's knife. The fact that it was a summer day, with a sky the color of sapphires, and a few clouds scattered across it for contrast, only served to enhance the difference between the building and its environment. A gentle breeze blew air that was as clear as water high in the mountaintops. The thought of walking out of it, into this place of death, made him shiver. He should be used to it, but it never got any easier.

He followed Wo inside to a waiting area where people waited to make an identification of someone loved and lost. He'd never had to make an identification of a loved one and he hoped with all his soul, he never had to.

The receptionist at the desk directly in front of them looked up with a practiced smile. She wore a conservative, navy blue suit jacket with a blindingly white blouse and a muted blue and silver scarf around her neck. She'd pulled her graying blond hair back into a knot at the base of her neck. She didn't appear to wear much makeup, but he thought she didn't really need it. She had green eyes, and skin that glowed like a child's despite her age, which he thought, was around forty-five.

"Hey Detective Messerly," she greeted him with a saucy wink. "Dr Carlson told me you'd be coming in. She wants you to meet her down in the morgue."

"Thanks Carly," he nodded and led them around the desk to the elevator.

The smell was the first to hit Reid when they stepped off the elevator. There was no way to get around the odor of death and formaldehyde. It was like a living being, instead of just a byproduct of the process of death.

He shivered; it felt cold even though they were nowhere near the cold storage where they kept the bodies for autopsy. He fancied he could feel it like the breath of Death chasing him. He'd been too close to death once, close enough to feel its bony fingers clasping him in its embrace. He'd only escaped because the same man that killed him decided to bring him back. If his tormentor had decided not to bring him back, he'd be in the ground, after an autopsy and time in a morgue just like this.

"Hey, you okay," Rossi, hissed at him.

"Yeah, just thinking," he hedged.

Messerly and Wo led them through a pair of swinging doors from the concrete block hallway and into a room with one steel autopsy table and their victim in the center under the light. A sheet covered her, from neck to feet, with the toe tag peeking out from under it.

A woman with black hair piled up on her head and dark brown eyes stood over the victim, noting something down on clipboard. She was tall, thin as a board and she was smiling, which seemed incongruous to the surroundings. She wore a white coat over light blue scrubs. Her eyes were merry despite her surroundings and she reminded Reid a bit of Garcia as she smiled.

"Detective Messerly, Detective Wo, good to see you; I assume these are the FBI agents working the case."

"Yeah, these are SSA David Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Ah yes, I heard our guy left you a special invitation."

"I wouldn't call it special. When you attach importance to something like that note, you give the un-sub exactly what he wants. I'm not interested in doing that unless it suits our needs."

Dr. Beverly Carlson raised her eyebrows, shot Det. Messerly a look and shrugged when he just stared back at her. "Alright then, let's move on. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that the cause of death in this case was exsanguination due to the knife wounds to her torso and her neck. I counted twenty-four wounds, but the coup de grace was the slashing of her carotid and jugular, the classic ear to ear. The fact that he nearly took her head off, says this guy's extremely strong or running on a lot of rage. It's all pretty obvious, but there is something I found that you don't know about."

Det. Wo perked up. "What did you find?"

She held up a cylindrical glass tube, sealed with red evidence tape. It winked in the light as they studied it. Inside, Reid saw a single white fiber.

"I found this adhering to her neck beneath her hair. He thought he sterilized her, but as these guys often do, he made a mistake.

"If he was enraged, he could have made that kind of mistake." Rossi pointed out.

Dr. Carlson shrugged her shoulders again. "I nearly missed it, but I'm nothing if not thorough."

Reid almost smiled at her tone, again, she reminded him of Garcia. "Have you ever seen a fiber like that before," he asked.

"It looks like a blanket or maybe even a towel. I'm sending it to our fiber expert with a rush. She'll be able to tell you everything you need to know."

"Thanks Doc." Messerly said.

"Not so fast," she held up a hand. "I also found a couple of needle marks on her right arm.

She turned Sandra's arm so they could see it. "Right there and they're very recent."

Reid reached into his pocket and fingered the contours of his medallion, which his fingers had long ago memorized.

"I'm still waiting for tox," Dr. Carlson was saying. "I'll let you know what I find as soon as it comes back. One thing I can tell you is that she wasn't a habitual drug user. These are too new."

Reid resisted the urge to look at the inside of his left elbow even though the temptation was nearly overwhelming. He glanced over at the others as though he were guilty of some offense. Only Rossi looked at him, and there was nothing in his eyes, neither pity nor accusation. In fact, Rossi gave him a small smile and then he looked back at the pitiful victim on the metal table.

It was a relief to leave that cold place of death five minutes later, and emerge back on the street, even though the sunlight made Reid blink a little. He pulled on his sunglasses and got into the SUV's back seat. Despite the bleakness of the morgue, and the marks of drug use on Sandra Brewster's arm, he couldn't help but feel like they had just received a gift.

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He dragged her unconscious body from the trunk of his car after closing the garage door. One of her high-heeled shoes had fallen off and the other clattered to the concrete floor as her legs fell free of their confinement. He grasped her under her arms and dragged her down the steps to the separate entrance to his basement.

Just inside the door, he yanked on a cord to turn on the light. The bulb was the same type used in a darkroom, and it dripped over the yellow walls and floor, like arterial blood.

The short hallway opened onto a wide room that he'd once planned on turning into another living room before his wife left, now it served another purpose. He'd painted the walls and the floor, flat silver, and in the center stood a gurney over a drain in the floor. He hefted her up, arranging her limbs so that she resembled sleep.

In one corner of the room, he'd situated a silver tray on wheels that held his collection of tools and implements. He held up one of his knives to the bare, white light bulb. It glinted in the light like a mirror in his hand. It was an extension of his hand, part of who he was, of who he'd become the first time he'd killed. Oh, if only he could recapture that feeling again, the first time his blade slid into flesh, the screams of his prey like music, the coppery smell of blood and the arousal that accompanied it like fine wine and cheese. Then, finally, the moment of release so great, it was a sweet and perfect pain. There was nothing to compare to it, no food, no wine, no great art or music. All he could do was try to recapture it.

Now, he had a new playmate, and he had Dr. Reid interested in his hobby. The old excitement coursed through his blood like fire. Every hair on his body stood up, gooseflesh sprang out on his flesh, and his eyes bulged in his head. He returned the knife to its place on the table. He let his fingers run over her skin as she began to wake up. She moaned and he sighed. She was perfect, small, blond, blue-eyed and so beautiful. Her eyes fluttered and her head rolled from side to side on the gurney, He shifted it to spotlight her head under the bare, white bulb.

"Where am I?"

Her speech slurred from the blow to the back of her head, so he slapped her face as hard as he could.

"Don't speak!"

"Who are you?"

"I said, do not speak."

He slapped her so hard her head flew to the right and she began to sob. "You must learn the rules of the game, my dear."

"Please don't hurt me."

He smiled down at her. He'd heard them all plead this way. If only they could understand that, their lives were completely at his mercy, that he was their God, their Master, the one that decided life or death.

"We're about to embark on a wondrous journey together."

She blinked slowly as if still dazed by the blow to her head. "Who are you? Let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Oh, I know you won't," he agreed. "You see this place," he gestured around, "it is the end of all things."

She hitched in a breath and screamed. He slapped her hard and she began to whimper and moan. "Now, the rules are simple. If you scream, I will cause you pain, if you're silent, I will inflict more pain. There really is no getting around this new fact of your life. Please, just accept it and I promise that in the end, I'll make it quick for you."

Tears ran silently down her cheeks. He reached out and wiped one away with his finger, the way a mother might comfort a hurt child. He licked the tear from his finger and sighed, there was nothing like tears born of utter despair.

"Now," he continued. "Why don't we begin?"


	8. Freedom or Chains

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Freedom or Chains_**

He raged up and down in his basement abattoir like a wounded lion ready to spring at the least provocation. Everything he'd done, all the changes he'd made to ensure that the old excitement and ecstasy flowed like wine once again, was for naught.

He knocked over the wheeled tray that held his tools. They fell with a metallic crash, raining down like water turning to steel, bouncing and rolling along the silver floor, and coming to rest around the gurney where lay his latest kill. The crash brought him up short, like an electric shock. He couldn't lose control. Unacceptable. Control means everything, without it, the human race would fall apart. It'd become less than the animals. He was not an animal! He was free. Only those who didn't give into their darker desires, who insisted on taming them, were in chains, bound by society's pitiful rules.

His heart rate slowly returned to normal as he concentrated on the deep breathing exercises he'd learned from an article online. The article said that deep breathing and daily meditation facilitated distressing the body and the mind. In fact, several days had elapsed since he'd last taken the time to meditate.

The silver floor was concrete beneath its coat of paint, but he sat, regardless, because the greatest peace only came after the greatest discomfort. Had he not proven that with his lovely guests? They knew that truth in death after great suffering. He closed his eyes and began to breathe.

She appeared in his head as she always did when he closed his eyes. The first one, the woman that had showed him that all the dreams and fantasies he'd had since he was a young man, could come true.

_The scent of her always came back to him first, the perfume she'd worn the day he'd met her in his office. It was like roses and cinnamon. He'd made excuses to pass by her as they spoke because the smell of it washed over him in waves that intoxicated him. _

_That night, for the first time since his wife had left him, he'd slept with dreams of her and scarlet blood. It tinted the landscape of the dream monochromatic, but he could still see her dark blue eyes and the dismissive way she'd looked at him. _

_All of that changed by the time he'd woken, shuddering and breathless. The terror in her eyes when he'd cut her throat was the ultimate high and for the first time since he was in his twenties, he'd climaxed in his sleep._

_The sensation of freedom in that dream, of release from the drudgery of his every day life was more than he could comprehend or explain. It was as if he'd been given a glimpse into what he could be if he were brave enough to cast off the chains of the so-called civilized way of living. _

_That morning, as he made coffee to go with his three scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns and toast, he began to plan how he'd make her his for all time. _

He opened his eyes after thirty minutes. Slipping out of conscious thinking and into his fantasy world, where scarlet blood and the screams of his lovely ladies ruled, had calmed his heart. It beat slowly and ponderously as he gazed up at one of her hands. It had fallen over the edge of the gurney and dangled free. Her nails were broken instead of pristine, as they'd been when he knocked her over the head. Of all his ladies, she'd fought longer and harder. Although her struggles had aroused him to the point of pain, the release was a pop instead of a river.

Rage began to build up in his gut once more. He'd take this failed experiment and leave if for Dr. Reid to find. Leaving his last playmate out in the open without being caught had been like drinking his favorite brandy spiked with adrenaline. This time he'd take an even greater risk and make the risk, he'd taken grabbing her in broad daylight; pay off in a big way.

He went to his custom-built bathroom on the main floor of the house to wash away the blood and to think. Throwing the FBI more clues was very risky, but so far they hadn't proved the opponents he'd hoped and he had to up the stakes just a little. It would make his victory over them that much sweeter. Perhaps Dr. Reid would write a paper on him joining him to the ranks of the famous and infamous for all time.

He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. "You're going to be the one that got away," he said. "Dr. Reid may be a genius, but he doesn't have what you have. You're free and he'll always be in bondage."

He winked at his reflection and laughed. The rage had abated for the moment and he slipped, contented, into the warm water of the shower.

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"Hey Reid."

Reid's eyes popped open to see the sun over his head now that it was a little after noon. The light made him blink rapidly as he tried to pretend that he hadn't fallen asleep in the SUV on the ride back from the morgue.

"You okay," Rossi asked.

"Yeah, sorry," he yawned so hard his jaw cracked.

Messerly and Wo smirked at him. "You gotta love early morning wake up calls." Messerly quipped.

Reid refused to admit that he'd never gone to sleep. He was sure they'd all jump to the wrong conclusion as Morgan once had, years ago, about his activities. Of course, if Star Wars Episode Three had ended ten minutes sooner, they would have been right.

"I need more coffee," he said evasively.

"You need more coffee like I need another wife." Rossi responded.

Reid barely resisted the urge to comment on seeing Rossi and Strauss leaving the same hotel at the same time. He nearly shuddered, at the thought of… no; he'd just pretend that it was a coincidence. After all, the only evidence was Strauss looking disheveled. Rossi hadn't had a hair out of place, which didn't surprise Reid because Rossi's appearance was a matter of pride.

"I'm divorced too," Messerly said as they re-entered the police station. "This job is hell on relationships."

Upon entering the room they'd taken over for the case, the delicious smell of fresh pizza bombarded Reid's nose.

"Your cohorts out there ordered in," Morgan indicated the bullpen.

"Well, it is Sunday."

Morgan raised his eyebrows at Wo's announcement.

"Whoever works on Sunday, always orders in pizza for lunch."

Morgan grinned at Reid. "Why didn't we think of that?"

"Because we're usually working out of state, or we have the day off."

Messerly's cell phone rang just as Reid reached for a slice of the Super Combo pizza. The allure of tomato, olives, onions, and sausage blocked out almost everything but the face of Sandra Brewster, from his mind.

Two things kept going over in his head. _Was someone else in danger because a killer wanted to fulfill his fantasies with Reid in the mix, and was he after someone else right at that moment?_

He'd taken three bites of pizza, with thoughts of Sandra Brewster in another part of his mind, when Messerly called for their attention.

"Our lab found a match to the fiber taken from Ms Brewster's mouth."

"That was fast," JJ said.

"Apparently, it matches to linens used almost exclusively in prisons. It was easy to find in the database."

Silence rained over the room as the sun moved behind a few clouds that scuttled across the sky.

"Are we thinking that someone Reid put away is out there?" Morgan wondered.

"I can't think of anyone I've put away, that's been released on parole."

"What about a prison employee?" JJ postulated. "May someone that has access to one of the guys Reid helped put away. You know they have fans and maybe someone listened and acted on what they heard."

"It's possible that someone in the system could be a groupie that wants to impress their hero." Rossi agreed.

"We should look into any correspondence Reid has received," Hotch said.

"Wait a minute," Messerly held up his hands as if calling a time out at the big game. "How do you know the status of the sickos you've popped?"

JJ smirked around a slice of cheese pizza and Morgan said proudly, "Trust us, he knows."

Reid shrugged as Wo stared at him. "I keep up on guys like The Fox or Henry Grace. I don't want to be surprised if one of them were to get out somehow, even if the odds are against it."

"I wouldn't want to be any of you," Messerly said. "No offense."

They all nodded, "We know they're people out there that would like to see us taken out," Hotch said, "but none of us will give up."

They all nodded again. "There's nothing I would rather do," Reid agreed.

"So what about your correspondence; you said you have some kind of fancy memory? Did you ever get letters from anyone you put away, or someone that's a groupie?"

Reid nodded, "Not recently though," he admitted.

"Should we concentrate on Dr. Reid," Wo asked over a bite of pizza. "We could be missing something important. Maybe that note was a red herring."

"You could be right," Hotch said. "We need to know more about our victim. Morgan, call Garcia and see if she narrow down a match to the fiber. Have her check into any releases from prison's here in Virginia that relate to anything we've done over the last five years, and see if she's finished checking out Sandra Brewster."

"Hotch, I need to get to my files at home and go over any correspondence that might relate to this. Despite my memory, I need to look at handwriting."

"Why, the note was typed?"

Reid turned to Messerly who was working on his second slice of pizza and sipping coffee. "It's easy to disguise handwriting with computer typing or writing in all capitals, that sort of thing, but it's more difficult to hide the way you write something or the way you speak. I can determine much more from sentence structure than individual words. For that, I need to see it in context."

Messerly nodded as Wo took another slice of pizza. "Okay, I understand that. Will you go back to Quantico?"

"Yes, and my home, I have some letters there too."

"Why?"

Everyone looked over at Wo, who suddenly resembled someone with their foot in their mouth.

"Actually, I'm considering an article and it helps to have some files at home," Reid said frankly.

"Well, okay then," Wo said, "sounds interesting."

"I hope it will be. You see, the study of graphology is respected in some circles. In others, detractors are vehement that the study of someone's personality by their handwriting is akin to magic and guess work. In fact, did you know that -?"

"Reid."

Reid's head shot around to see Hotch staring at him from under a glowering forehead.

"Sorry, um I'll just get back to Quantico. See you guys later."

He shoved the last of his pizza in his mouth, took a drink of coffee, choked and had to have Morgan slap him on the back.

"Take it easy, man."

His face was very pink when he hurried out of the room and Messerly said, "Does he always act like that?"

"He may ramble when he's nervous or excited about something, but there's no one better suited to figuring out what's going on here."

There was a general agreement from the team to Morgan's comments. Even Hotch smiled just the tiniest bit.

"Let's get back to business."

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Reid climbed into his ancient Volvo and turned on the radio. He tuned into a classical station and rolled down his window. The sun was hiding behind a few grey and pewter clouds. He wondered if it would rain before he made the hour trip back to his apartment. He'd go there first because he'd filed all his most interesting letters for his article in his home office and perhaps the answer was there.

He didn't notice that someone followed him as he swung out into traffic. The car was made to blend in, white, late model and utterly boring. It suited the man's purpose and he had to know why Dr. Reid was alone and heading away from Richmond.


	9. Irrational Anger

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Irrational Anger_**

Reid's apartment building stood back from the street, landscaped with green lawns, some oak trees, and a couple of old firs. The two-building complex was one of the oldest, but best maintained in the city of Alexandria. It even had a pond in the front that reflected the blue sky, and the green of the trees, as two fountains shot water into the air. Light reflected all the colors of the rainbow as the droplets crashed back to the surface. He found the rush and splash soothing, especially at night when he came home from a tough case. It seemed to calm something inside him that he missed in the wintertime when the pond was silent.

He parked in his assigned space and hurried down the pathway that separated the buildings, which were built from sand stone colored bricks, mortar, and weathered by the sun and time, yet still charming. The complex was small, compared to some of the newer places that had sprung up all over town in the last few years.

As he entered the main door and hurried to the elevator to take him up to the fifth floor, he thought about this unique place and its people. He knew that some people only saw that the buildings were old, but to him, they had character that was sadly lacking in the new age of electronics and globalization.

The first thing he saw upon entering his front door, was Carolyn laying curled up on the couch. He looked at his watch and realized it was nearly two in the afternoon. She liked to have a nap Sunday afternoons if she didn't have to work at the hospital.

Her wavy blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders and around her, like a fairy queen's shawl made by some clever elf and possibly spun from real gold. She wore a white cashmere sweater over a light blue tank and faded blue jeans, her favorite ragged pair he saw, and that made him grin. Then he took a closer look and saw that her eyes were shut tight and she frowned in her sleep as if something stalked her in her dreams.

_Now why did you think of that word? Stalked?_

Suddenly the warmth of the day and the room fled as before an oncoming storm front that might kill rather that shed life-giving water to the earth's parched tongue. Carolyn stiffened at the same time he started to go to her, his letters forgotten as some premonition dropped over his eyes. She jerked, thrashed and moaned. "No, don't, please don't hurt him. NO!"

"Carolyn…"

"Spencer, where are you? Run, he's coming after you. You have to run."

She screamed so loudly, that he flinched backward and almost stumbled into his keyboard. Her eyes flew open and pinned him as though she knew exactly where he'd be.

"Spencer," she whispered, as tears collected in the corners of her eyes.

He'd gathered her in his arms, pulled her into his lap and hugged her to his heart. She clung to him so tight, his ribs hurt, but he didn't try to disengage from her embrace.

"Shh… baby, its okay. I'm alright."

"You were hurt and I couldn't find you. He tried to take you away from me."

"No, I'm right here, just hold on to me."

His heart broke in two as she sobbed pitifully in his arms. He rocked her for a long time, until she stopped shuddering and pulled away from him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart."

She stroked his face with her hands, which trembled a little. "I had this terrible dream that this man wanted to take you away from me."

Her swollen red eyes were still beautiful to him. He kissed her, and she relaxed totally in his arms. "No one is going to take me away from you."

"How can you be sure? Look at what's happened to your team, your boss lost his wife to a complete psycho, Emily nearly got killed and then she just decided to leave, Gideon lost Sarah, JJ and Will had another psycho threatening them and Henry, and you've nearly been killed more times than I can count."

"Carrie I -"

"I don't even know any of those people." She continued her voice beginning to rise like the tide on the ocean. "You decided that you wanted to keep our relationship a secret. What about what I want?"

He stared at her in utter confusion for long seconds. Why was she questioning their decision all of a sudden? He didn't understand. Perhaps it was the dream. "We decided together that -"

"We didn't decide anything. You wanted to keep your life private. I love you so I went along with it. I thought that's what I wanted too, but now I don't know."

"I don't know what you want," he stated. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to be safe, don't you understand that?" Some killer wants to play a game with you. How do you know he won't kill you?"

She climbed out of his lap and paced the room.

"I never told you this would be easy," he tried to say as reasonably as he could, but anger was getting the best of him. "You know who I am, Carrie, who I've always been. I can't stop doing this job."

"Even if it gets you killed."

"I don't understand why you're suddenly opposed to my -"

"You don't understand. Let me tell you something, Dr. Reid. Every time you get called away in the middle of the night, I'm frightened, scared out of my mind that you won't come back to me."

"Carrie," he tried to go to her and hold her, but she danced out of his reach.

"Don't try to score points, calling me that," She spat out at him. "You want to help people, and I get that, but what about me. I love you. Can't you understand that?"

"You're just reacting to the dream. Studies have shown that nightmares -"

"I don't freaking care about statistics, Spencer Reid. I'm sorry if I can't hold up to this to your satisfaction. I'm sorry if the dream is making me act too irrationally for you. I don't want to get that phone call saying you're dead."

She dropped to the couch, curled up and began to sob. He tried to hold her despite the anger that stormed through him. She pushed him away and it flared up in his chest.

"You'll have to learn how to cope with it, because I'm not giving up the part of me that means so much. If you expect me to, then maybe we should call it quits right now."

"Fine," she stormed out of the room, leaving him sitting there stunned.

He should get up and go after her, but he couldn't make his body unfold from the couch. He just sat there staring at the coffee table with anger coursing through his blood like acid through ice.

He didn't know how much time passed, but Carolyn rushed past the living room again with her hair pinned up and a bag in her hand. "I'll be back for my stuff when I think you can handle a civilized conversation," she snapped at him and slammed the door.

He sat there for long minutes, rocking back and forth with the sound of the door reverberating through his ears. He'd been so happy to get home and see her, even if he had to leave again for work, but now she was gone and he sat there alone. It was as though some giant had come into their lives and torn them apart; leaving the remnants tattered beyond repair, like the sails of a ship after a particularly vicious storm.

Finally, he stood up and went to the second bedroom he used as a home office. He still had a job to do, and by God, he was going to do it. Maybe when this latest un-sub was out of business, he could think of some way to repair the damage.

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He watched her leave the apartment from his car across the street. He observed her through the binoculars he'd bought just for hunting. They were the very best quality that could be used in darkness, because they had night vision and infrared to detect body heat.

That feature wasn't necessary in the bright light of day and because Dr. Reid's little girlfriend seemed to be throwing of waves of fiery anger. He could relate to that.

"So, trouble in paradise. Hmm… perhaps I'll be able to use that to my advantage if it becomes necessary. Oh, you are beautiful my pet. How I'd love to take you for myself."

He put down the binoculars. No, he'd leave her be for now, because the time for upping the stakes to that degree hadn't come yet. Soon, if Dr. Reid didn't cooperate, it might become necessary.

He chuckled again. He'd just had time to leave his latest offering where the police would find her, and then the chase would begin anew.

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Reid arrived at Quantico ninety minutes later. Anderson greeted him as he entered the bullpen, and he replied with a vague hello. He'd get the rest of his files and maybe lock himself in Morgan's office. His partner wouldn't care and it was better than the looks he was getting from Anderson and the other agents in the bullpen.

The sigh of relief he heaved upon shutting out the rest of the world in Morgan's office was long and loud. Finally, he could concentrate and find some clue to get this man before he killed again.

He'd just finished sorting through all the correspondence he'd filed away for inclusion in his article, when his cell phone began to ring.

"Reid."

"We've got another body," Hotch said.

Reid's heart sank down into his toes. If only he'd been more clever than this killer at the outset.

"I'm on my way," he said.

"No, it'll take too long for you to get back out here. Stay there and work with your letters and Garcia. We need to find a lead on that fiber."

He wanted to argue, but he knew it was a waste of time. Hotch was right, and Garcia would be sure to keep his mind off his troubles.


	10. Another Letter

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Another note_**

The sun threw shadows over the body as Morgan approached ahead of Hotch and the detectives. He snapped on gloves and scowled down at her. Someone had left her body just off a walking path at the edge of the James River. The path was popular for hikers and boaters, especially white water rafters.

The rush of the water over stones that formed the most intense rapids on the river, and the smell of summer grass made the scene truly garish in Morgan's eyes. She lay there naked, her skin so black and blue from bruising, she barely looked human. Her blue eyes, glazed with death, looked up at the lazily moving hemlocks over her head as though she could see something he couldn't, and wouldn't, see if he looked for years.

Behind him, Rossi was talking to the group of whitewater rafters that had found her body. One of the women, who still wore her life vest, was crying in the arms of one of the men. The other couples just stood there speechless as Rossi asked them questions.

Morgan turned away and crouched down next her. She was so small his heart broke. She couldn't weight more than one hundred pounds or stand more than five feet tall. Her blonde hair fluttered around her face in the breeze like a terrible, gossamer web spun by some insane spider. He pushed it away from her face and studied the beating she'd taken before the un-sub killed her.

"Jesus," Wo said softly.

"There's no Jesus here," Morgan argued. "This is the work of a true devil."

Messerly pulled on gloves and crouched down, too. "No matter how long you do this job, it never gets any easier."

"He's raising the stakes," Hotch said. "He left her near a river in summer where she'd be found very quickly."

"He didn't take time to pose her like the last one." Morgan pointed out. "He just dumped her here."

She lay on her back, but one of her arms was over her head and the other across her chest, her legs crossed as though someone had rolled her there.

"He's in it for the risk, but he didn't want to be seen. He's not through playing with us." JJ remarked from next to Hotch.

"We've got another note," Wo said.

The note was in the same kind of generic envelope, once again addressed to Dr. Reid. Hotch carefully removed the folded over piece of paper.

"_Dear Dr. Reid," _it began.

_I was very disappointed to see you've kept my hobby out of the media. Tsk, Tsk, Dr. Reid, I expected better than your tired profiler trick of trying to anger me by ignoring me. It won't work. _

_I hope you have better appreciation for my latest offering. She was so tasty, just like warm bread right from the oven on a winter's day. _

The un-sub chose to leave the second note unsigned, again.

"Why leave her here like this?" JJ wondered as the CSIs began to arrive. "He clearly wants Reid's attention, but he doesn't want to be identified. He wants media attention, but he doesn't give us his name."

"He wants to be famous," Hotch said. "He wants to achieve the kind of recognition that Jack the Ripper had and he thinks Reid is the key to it, and to getting away clean.

Morgan stood up and walked over to Hotch. "One of the techs just said the media is massing down the path where the boaters enter the river for the rapids. She said there's already a representative from every local station."

"Good news travels fast," Rossi put in. He shaded his eyes with sunglasses and slipped off his suit jacket. "This is exactly what this un-sub wants. We need to spin it to work for us."

Hotch nodded. "Yes we do, but for right now, let's let him think he's getting what he wants."

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Reid approached Garcia's lair as a gazelle might approach a river for a drink knowing that lions stalked them, but unable to stay away because they needed the life giving liquid. He had to get his emotions under control or she'd pester him until he spilled his guts. He'd been successful in hiding his relationship with Carolyn for the last six months. The last thing he wanted to do was spill the beans after such an emotional scene.

Her door was open and he could see that, as usual, her entire attention revolved around the computer screens she tended like a mother with a much beloved child. His team always commented on his ability to block out everything and concentrate, but Garcia had the same ability.

"Hey," he said.

She didn't look around or flinch, as though she knew he was there despite her concentration.

"Hi there, gorgeous, come on in."

He shut the door behind him and took the only other chair in the room. "Have you found anything?"

"I was just going to call the guys. Want to sit in?"

He grinned at her enthusiasm. She might be wearing a bright orange and yellow striped blouse with a yellow skirt, but the real sparkle of her, was in her eyes. Only someone that knew her very well could see past the yellow dahlia in her hair, and the tortoise shell rimmed glasses she wore, to the weariness, and the pity in her eyes for the victims. That empathy was her most attractive quality, in his opinion. It also meant that she suffered more than any of them.

"Thanks," he said as she dialed Morgan's number.

"_Hey, baby girl," _Morgan's voice drifted out of the speaker to them.

"I've got you on speaker my chocolate god. Reid's with me."

"_Hey, Reid," _Morgan said.

"Hi."

"_What have you got for me, Garcia?" _

"I've got everything you need to know about Sandra Brewster. As you already know, she was a native of Virginia. It seems her family's lived here for several generations. When Sherrie and Sandra's parents died, they became the last of their family line. I can't find any living relatives.

In addition, I couldn't find any criminal record for Ms Brewster. She graduated with honors from UVA and afterward began working as an elementary school teacher at Woodside Elementary. She's got the best record of all the teachers there. Her students love her and as far as I can tell, she doesn't have an enemy in the world. She's described as outgoing, beautiful and intelligent. The only flaw I could find, although I don't consider it a flaw, is that she had bad luck with men."

"_That explains why she decided to go out with someone she met online."_

"It still doesn't explain how she met up with the un-sub," Reid interjected. "I'm beginning to think that he was either following her or it was a crime of opportunity. How could he know that she'd insist on meeting Rivers, or that her date would end so abruptly?"

"_What about the fibers?"_

Hotch's voice took over the call. The team must also be on speaker, Reid realized.

"I have better news for you regarding the fiber. There's only one match. A towel of the same brand was evidence in a kidnapping, six years ago. The perpetrator, one Jackson "Jackie" Carter, got five years. The parole board released him early for good behavior, despite ties to an arms dealer out of Richmond. The judge believed his lawyer when he made the argument that Carter's arms buddies coerced him into the kidnapping."

"He doesn't fit the profile of a sexual sadist," Reid said.

"No, but he made friends with one of the guards, Henry Stack, who does have a nasty little history that only I could track down."

"_What did you find?" _Rossi wanted to know.

"I know that when he was sixteen, he got sent to Juvie for assault on his younger sister. The file was sealed but -"

"_I don't want to know," _Hotch said and Reid could imagine the granite stone of his boss's expression.

"_Let me guess," _Morgan began_. "She was raped and beaten." _

"Yes, he nearly killed her. Unfortunately, he only spent two years in detention. They had to let him go when he was eighteen. He's thirty five now and has been a guard for the last ten years."

"_Anything recent on him?"_

"Sorry stud, not that I can find. If he's offended again, he's gotten much more careful."

"_What about DNA?"_

"Nope, DNA wasn't a priority for offenders under eighteen twenty years ago."

"_I think we need to have a conversation with Henry Stack,_" Rossi said.

"_Reid, I need you to help Garcia find out more about our latest victim. We need to identify her as fast as we can." _

"I agree Hotch; I'll do what I can."

When Garcia turned her full attention on Reid, he flinched. Her eyes were capable of seeing everything, even what he didn't want her to see. "What's wrong, baby cakes?"

"I'm fine, just tired. I was out at three this morning," he said truthfully.

"It's more than just tired," She argued.

He did his best to keep eye contact with her. "It's nothing, really."

"You wouldn't be holding out on me, would you?"

"No, I really am just tired."

She reached out and patted his arm. "Alright, but you know you can tell me anything, anytime."

He smiled at her and guilt ate away at his stomach. She only meant well for him, and maybe Carolyn was right about keeping her a secret. He desperately needed someone's advice about her and maybe telling Garcia wouldn't be so bad. She might be able to help him figure out how to make things right.

Then he thought, no, Carolyn was the one that got irrationally angry, even if she had a point about their relationship. He'd never done anything to occasion her reaction.

"Really, Garcia, I _am_ okay."

She nodded and her blond curls shifted around her shoulders. She turned back to her computers. "I better get the address for Stack to the team's phones."

"I wish I were there," he said mournfully.

"Hey," she turned back to him. "I need you too."

"I'm not the computer expert," He pointed out to her.

"True, but you can help me interpret what I find."

He was about to tell her that she didn't need any help, when one of her computers began to beep at her.

"Well, that was fast. I think we have our ID on the latest victim."


	11. Suspect Number Two

**_Disclaimer: see my profile _**

**_Suspect Number Two_**

"What did you find?"

Reid was leaning over Garcia's shoulder, studying the ID photograph that came up on the screen. It was an out of date California driver's license from 2005.

"Her name's April McKee," he said.

Garcia peered up at him over her right shoulder. "Reid." She lifted one eyebrow into her bangs.

"Oh, um sorry," he took a step back as she smirked up at him.

"She was born in Los Angeles and moved here two years ago. She works at Rainbow and Stardust Daycare in Richmond. Her parents still live in California. They retired to Napa Valley six years ago. Her father was an architect with one of the largest firms on the West Coast and her mother was a stay at home mom. She has a younger brother, married and living in Denver Colorado. She's single and as far as I can tell she's not dating anyone seriously right now."

"We need to call Hotch. They're going after Henry Stack and it might be helpful to have another name to add into the mix."

Garcia nodded. "I'm way ahead of you," her fingers flew over the keys as she spoke. "There," she clicked the enter button. "I sent everything to their phones, but we'll call them too."

Reid listened with only half an ear as Garcia talked to Morgan about their latest victim. His fight with Carolyn was so distracting because it was the first real fight they'd had in six months. Oh, they'd had their disagreements, but not anything as serious as this.

"Hey, Reid."

He noticed that Garcia was off the phone. She was looking at him as if she was about to try to pry his troubles out. He wanted to tell her, but trusting anyone on the team after what happened with Emily was tough. Garcia hadn't betrayed him, had been just as victimized, but he still couldn't bring himself to break his vow to keep Carolyn a secret and keep his life private.

"Sorry, I was just trying to put the pieces together. I just want to get this guy."

She rubbed his right arm. "Me too… I don't want to see any more of these pretty young women with their whole lives in front of them, in these awful photographs. I'd do anything to catch this sick freak."

He smiled because it was hard to be in the same room with Garcia and not smile at least once. She radiated life and joy. How could a person ignore such light? He knew it was beyond him to do so.

"Yeah, me too."

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Henry Stack was a big man, about two inches taller than Hotch with a build that rivaled Morgan. He looked like he could bench press a small automobile. He had a thick, dark brown head of hair and a clean-shaven face with a long scar that ran from his right temple, across his face and over the bridge of his nose to his left ear. He had the look of someone chiseled from granite stone and dark piercing eyes that were full of anger as he sat across the table from Morgan and Rossi.

"Are you going to stare at me all day, or are you going to tell my why I'm here?"

Morgan and Rossi exchanged a look. "I'm sure you've seen the news." Rossi began.

"I don't watch the news."

"Really, then you won't recognize these faces."

Morgan slid copies of Sandra Brewster and April McKee's photos across the metal table to Stack. They were unblemished photos taken in life.

"No, I've never seen either of these bitches before," Henry sneered. "Too bad though, they're both hot."

"Tell me, Henry," Rossi said. "Why're you working as a prison guard here in Virginia? You were the boss in Connecticut and yet, you're here. What happened?"

Stack snorted. "Nothing happened, my mother lived in Virginia. She was real sick last year so I moved back here to take care of her."

"We know that, Stack, we also know she died two weeks after you moved back here. Why didn't you try to go back?"

Henry sat back in his chair, and tipped it back as though he were having a conversation with a couple of buddies over a beer and popcorn with the game on TV.

"I've got a good set up here. I got my mother's house, which is a helluva lot better than the little place I had in New England. The babes are hotter too."

"Well, we checked into your record and we were surprised. You've been clean ever since you went to Juvie for attempted murder and rape."

Henry's chair slammed back to the concrete floor with a thud that echoed in the small room. "That record's sealed. How did you get into it?"

"Never mind how," Morgan said. "You attacked your own sister. Do you know what that makes you?"

Stack leaped up out of his chair. "Just what are you trying to say, boy."

"Easy," Rossi held up a hand. "We've got two dead women here and they both look an awful lot like your sister."

He pushed a picture of Helen Stack across to Henry, who didn't look at it. "I don't care if they all look like the Easter Bunny. I haven't done anything to hurt anyone."

"I think you have hurt someone. I think you might have made a mistake and that's why you left New England."

"I haven't done anything," Henry repeated. "You don't have anything on me."

"We know you cozied up to Jackson Carter while he was in stir. We've got evidence that ties in your former workplace to these killings, and an assault involving Mr. Carter. We know that Mr. Carter worked in the laundry at the prison while he was there. Did he trade prison linen for contraband on the outside?"

"Why would I need prison linen?"

For the first time Henry Stack wouldn't look at Morgan or Rossi. He stared at the two-way mirror instead.

"Mr. Stack, a man doesn't just stop raping and killing women."

"I never killed anyone."

"No, you didn't, not that we can prove, but there are ways to get rid of the evidence and working in a prison you'd learn the ways. Perhaps you used the linens to clean up after yourself. You strike me as a man that'd enjoy raping and killing women. You get off on that."

Henry leaped at Rossi. Morgan grabbed him and manhandled him into the wall as a couple of big cops entered the room and shackled him.

"I didn't kill anyone. They're just whores anyway, no loss to anyone." He shouted and his face was so red that Rossi wondered about his blood pressure for a moment.

"I want a lawyer," he panted as the three men held him down. "I want to get out of here."

"You're not going anywhere until we have a look at your home."

"You can't do that."

"Ever heard of a warrant," Morgan said into his ear. "We can look at anything we want in your place. You better hope we don't find anything from the prison or our two victims, or we'll nail you too the wall."

"You can't keep me here."

"Yes, we can," Rossi, said. "Get him out of here."

Hotch entered the little conference room five minutes later. Reid and Garcia were on speakerphone.

"Did we get him?"

"No," Hotch said. "He never mentioned Reid, and he would have, had he been involved in this. He wants his approval."

"_Hotch is right_," Reid's voice drifted out of the phone.

"He's self important and egotistical. He blitzed his victims. Henry Stack wouldn't do that. He'd rely on his looks to attract women. He also has the strength to just grab one of these women and throw them into a vehicle and drive away before anyone notices."

"Let's wait and see what Messerly and Wo find at his place."

"You don't have wait long."

They all turned to the door as the detectives came into the room. "We didn't find anything. We took one of his towels and some sheets to test, but I doubt they'll match. I didn't find any souvenirs, or any evidence of a crime. You saw that he lives on a half-acre lot with neighbors on all sides. There's also a Neighborhood Watch Group."

"Representatives of the group accosted us the minute we came out of the house. They were very persistent in demanding ID and wanting to know what we were doing there."

The team smiled at Wo's disgust. "I wish civilians would leave the police work to the professionals," he complained.

"Now Tony, you know the Neighborhood Watch program is good for any neighborhood."

Wo rolled his eyes at his senior detective. "I know, but they sure are enthusiastic."

Everyone began to laugh, and for Rossi it was a relief after the long day of bodies, blood and worrying about a maniac trying to involve Reid in this business.

"Alright, I think we need to give a profile to your men. I'm not ready to lay all of this in Henry Stack's lap. We need to find more."

Messerly nodded in agreement with Hotch's assessment. "I agree. I know for sure that if Stack was up to anything, the Neighborhood Watch people would've caught him at it by now."

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"We're looking for a white man in his forties," Hotch said. "As you know, a serial killer preys within his race. He's older because there is an element of control in these killings.

"Why?"

A young African American officer at a desk in the front of the bullpen had raised his hand almost as if they were in school. "I heard Det. Messerly say that this guy really whaled on her. Doesn't that mean there's no control?"

They others murmured their assent to this. Hotch glanced over at Rossi, and he took up the next part of the profile.

"Yes, there was overkill in both of these murders, but we also know that these aren't his first killings. He's gone undetected up until today. This isn't his first time."

"I don't understand why he'd call attention to himself if he's got away with it before," said the same officer.

"He's bored with his work," JJ said. "He pulled in the FBI because most serial killers like to brag about their work. They often inject themselves into an investigation for the risk and to know if we're close to them."

"So you need to go back and interview friends and coworkers of the victims. It could be someone they knew. We also need to look into former guards, or prison employees, especially anyone that might have moved here from Connecticut. We're looking for someone that isn't physically imposing. He can't charm his victims, or over power them without attacking from behind. He's not someone you'd notice in a crowd. He's very ordinary," Morgan added.

"What about your Dr. Reid?"

This question came from a blonde haired, female officer, toward the back of the bullpen.

"What about him," JJ asked and she didn't like the officer's tone.

"Well this guy seems to want to impress him. Why isn't he here?"

"He's busy with other leads." Morgan said.

"But don't you think that -"

Hotch held up a hand. "Dr. Reid has written several articles in medical journals and he's lectured here in Virginia and Maryland. He's known to a lot of people and several serial killers this team has put away. It doesn't mean that he's involved."

"I wasn't trying to say that," she persisted. "I just think we should use him to our advantage. It seems like this guy might come out of hiding if we did."

"We're not using him as bait," Morgan snapped at her.

"People," Detective Messerly interrupted. "We're going to solve this with old-fashioned police work, not with tricks. Now, get to work."

As the team gathered back in the conference room, JJ said to Messerly. "I thought you agreed that we should use Reid."

His dark eyes flashed at her. "I don't believe in hanging anyone out on a line for a killer Agent Jareau."

She didn't smile. "I'm glad to hear it. He's been through enough."


	12. More Good News

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_More Good News_**

Reid put down the correspondence he'd collected from his files. There wasn't anything in them that matched the tone, or the wording of the notes sent to him.

_Maybe that's because there's nothing to find. This guy doesn't have to be one of your 'so-called fans.' _

It was odd that someone just popped out of the woodwork, trying to get his attention when they had managed to get away with murder. Why announce themselves to the authorities now?

He picked up the first note and read it through again. The un-sub was bragging, but there was something in the tone that bothered him. Why bring in the BAU? This guy didn't want to be caught. He enjoyed his work.

_All serial killers try to recreate the high they got from their first kill. It's impossible, but they try over and over again. _

He dropped the letter onto his files and rubbed at his temples. If he could just figure out this un-subs motivation. If he could get one-step ahead of him, then maybe he could end this and get on with his life.

He turned to a couple of reference books he picked up at the library. He smiled a little to think that he'd been able to find books on graphology that he hadn't read, but apparently there were a couple and they weren't that long, so he'd be done with them in an hour or less. Perhaps there was some insight in them that he could put to use in tracking the man that wanted him involved in his sick idea of a hobby.

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JJ dropped her file on the table and rubbed at her eyes. In the year since she'd become a profiler, nothing had hit her as hard as this case. It was more than just the fact that beautiful young women were dying. If it were only that, she could do her job, and put it aside for the sake of her family.

She stretched her arms over her head, and stood up to walk the kinks out of her legs. She left the conference room, ignoring Morgan when he called to her and went outside into the night. The sky was black and she wished for stars to stare at as she tried to think of something that could help Spence. The air was very warm and it was quiet for a police station. It was as though the criminal element had decided to take a break, except for one psycho that wanted to play with her one time good friend.

"JJ."

Hotch had come out of the police station and stood with his back to the light. She only knew it was he from the outline of his body and his voice.

"Hotch."

"The ME called. The results from tox are back on Sandra Brewster. They found Dilaudid in her blood along with something called Narcan."

"You don't think he knows -"

Hotch shook his head. "I don't see how he could, but it's something to think about. Dr. Carlson said Narcan works instantly to counteract the effects of any narcotic. The unsub may have used it to keep them under and they bring them around fast for his games.

"Still it's an eerie coincidence."

"I think the best thing to do is go with the profile. Rossi has an idea, and I tend to agree that it might work to help draw out our un-sub." Hotch said.

"What does he want to do?"

Intrigued, she stepped closer and the illusion that Hotch didn't have a face was broken by the change in her position. A pair of police officers passed them as they headed back into the bullpen, which was very quiet.

"He has an idea suited to your talents and to the contacts that I know you still have in the fourth estate.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

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JJ hurried into the room, as they were all getting ready to leave just a little after 9 pm. "I got the word out, Hotch. Most of my old friends in the press will cooperate, but I don't know what we'll do with the national news."

"Don't worry about it. If I'm right, he'll be concentrating on the local TV."

"You think this will push him into action," Rossi said.

"I think his ego won't allow him to be ignored. It's why he contacted Reid in the first place."

"I hope you're right," Messerly said. "I hope we don't find another body. Two in one day is quite enough for me."

Wo nodded his agreement. "I know I'm not anxious for more blood and horror."

"Why don't we get a cup of coffee, and then go home?" Rossi suggested.

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Reid's clock said 10:47 pm when he crawled into bed. He wanted to stay up and figure out the puzzle of this un-sub, but he couldn't concentrate. Worry over Carolyn and his inability to get inside the head of this killer had ganged up on him.

He shut off the light, turned over, and reached out for someone that wasn't there. The air conditioning kicked on with a whoosh that sent his heart to racing. How did he get so used to having someone around after only six months?

He flipped over to his back and looked up at the blackness where the ceiling should be as the air shut off again. Now, it was too quite in his room and the dark seemed to press down on his open eyes as though someone were about to gouge them out.

His thoughts began to cycle around in his head, repeatedly until his skull ached. First, this un-sub wanted Reid in the investigation. Then he saw Carolyn in his head, she wanted him to change, give up his life at the BAU because she was afraid for him. Then, the killer was back, with his notes, and all his rage. Then there was Carolyn with all her fear for him.

He clapped his hands over his head. He was so tired. He just needed to get some sleep, then maybe he'd be able to make headway with the case, and he could concentrate on Carolyn.

_You should be talking to her right now. Remember that Hotch lost Haley because he always put the job first in his life. Call her._

He reached for the lamp, wincing at the yellow light flooding the room. He grasped at his phone, almost knocking it from the end table. He'd call her and talk to her until she understood what his work meant to him. Then he'd be able to figure out what to do about a killer that wanted his attention.

Even though he'd always thought that speed dial was a wonderful invention, pressing just one button now was nerve wracking. The phone began to ring much too soon for his liking. It rang and rang, but she didn't answer. When he heard the words of her voice mail, he almost didn't leave a message until he realized that she'd been scheduled to start a shift at the hospital at midnight.

Disappointment like an ocean wave swamped him. God how he longed to hear her voice and laugh at one of her jokes. She always knew how to make him feel better, no matter what problem circled his brain like vultures over fresh carrion.

"I need you," he said to the darkness

His eyes closed as he tried to make sense of the letter and the evidence they had and sleep pulled him down into the world where dreams held sway and nothing was quite what it seemed.

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He jabbed at the remote control and cut off the reporter in the middle of a story about a rare white tiger just arrived at the zoo and how the animal right activists had come out in force to protest the addition of the animal.

Where was his story? They were supposed to be talking about him, not about some stupid tiger. Where was the interest in his hobby? After the fuss at the six pm news, no one seemed to care.

He stalked into his restaurant quality kitchen, and found an unopened bottle of Remy Martin. He eschewed the ice, and poured out a double, neat, into one of the crystal tumblers he'd purchased after he'd remodeled the kitchen to his liking, and drank it half down in one swallow. It burned on his tongue and throat, but he needed all of it.

When the tumbler was empty, he filled it again and went into his study. If the BAU thought it could play games, and he knew enough about their techniques to know they'd try to anger him, then they were in for more than they bargained for.

He opened a file cabinet in the corner of his room, outfitted as an old-fashioned hunters lodge with dark reds and browns on the walls and floor and a large, highly polished walnut desk in front of a wall of windows that looked out onto the black night. He picked up the file he'd kept on her and made a swift decision. He knew her schedule and if he set things up just right, he'd finally get Dr. Reid's full attention. Just thinking about finally having her in his control made him achingly hard.

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Reid's phone brought him out of the embrace of Hypnos barely seven hours later. He winced at the clock that read 6:09 am. He groaned; blinked his eyes against the grains of sand that someone had poured into them during the night and answered over a gigantic yawn.

"Reid."

"Dr Reid," said an unfamiliar voice.

"Yes, who is this?"

"This is Maggie. We met a couple of months ago when you came to the hospital to pick up Dr. Strickland for dinner after her shift."

"Oh yeah, it's nice to talk to you, Maggie. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you. It's just that…well, we're probably over reacting, but Carolyn didn't show up for work today."


	13. The reason Reid needs backup 247

Disclaimer: see my profile

**_The reason why Reid needs backup 24/7_**

"She didn't show up for work," he repeated, as if he hadn't heard her right.

"No, and it's not like her not to call in. She calls if she's going to be late or if she's sick, albeit, that's a rare thing. She's very dedicated."

"Yes…"

He couldn't think of anything to say, other than that simple word of agreement. There was no reason to panic, and yet something akin to that most primal of emotions began to crawl up his spine and he shivered.

"Dr Reid?"

"Sorry, um, I'll try calling her and -"

"We already tried that," she interrupted impatiently. "Can't you do something, like go over there?"

His first instinct since Maggie had said that Carolyn hadn't showed up was to go to her place, but she'd been so angry. She might be ill and didn't want to see him because of their fight. Some how, he knew that wasn't true, something else was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.

"Alright," he squeaked. "I'll c-call you when I get there. I'm s-sure everything will b-be okay."

His voice trembled so badly, he could hardly speak the words.

"Thank you, Dr. Reid. We'll feel much better when we know everything is alright."

"Thanks for calling me, Maggie." He responded.

She disconnected the call, but he didn't spring right into action. He found he couldn't move for some reason, even though his heart was screaming for him to drive out to her place. If he just stayed there in the safety of his home and pretended that everything was okay, and then it would be, it had to be.

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It was barely seven am when he reached her apartment complex. He parked in visitor parking near the office and looked over to her assigned spot to see her car still parked in her space. The sun was arching up over the eastern horizon, and it winked the down the windows and the cherry red exterior of Ford Focus in a way that should have been reassuring. Instead, it mocked him.

_You don't know anything yet. Go inside. She might be so sick she can't lift a phone. _

He burst out laughing because it was ridiculous to hope for such a serious illness, but he did, with his whole heart because then his awful feeling of premonition would go away forever.

She lived on the first floor in the northeast corner of the closest building. He went inside and hurried down the hall to 1F. He knocked, but she didn't come to the door. He waited, knocked again and the sound of it was hollow. Someone came out of 1E, but he didn't really see the person, just as he didn't see the neutral beige paint on the hallway walls or the white paint on the door with their black numbers like accusations.

Something made him reach out try the lock. It was open and it swung open on silent hinges as he automatically reached for his revolver. A cool detachment dropped over his eyes and mind, as it always did when he had to help search a house, or confront a un-sub. Still, his hands trembled as he entered the living area.

The shock of premonition fulfilled slammed like a physical blow to his gut, as he rounded the corner from her small entryway and into the living area. A man sat with one leg crossed over the other on Carolyn's couch. He wore a dark brown, three-piece suit with a light yellow shirt and matching tie. Gold cufflinks gleamed at his wrists and he wore silver ring on his right pinky with a red stone that looked like a ruby. He'd combed back his graying hair and parted it to the right, and he still had the moustache and beard that Reid remembered.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Why don't you put down that gun, Dr Reid?"

His soft voice held a melodious quality, which belied the gun he had in his right hand. He pointed it directly at Reid and his hand was steady, it didn't tremble like Reid's hands.

"I don't think so. What are you doing here? Where's Carolyn? What have you done with her?"

It was all so surreal, but at the same time, it suddenly all made sense to him. They'd only met once, but he remembered there had been something in his eyes and the way he talked that struck a chord.

"Ms Strickland is somewhere safe, Dr. Reid. In fact, you and I will see her very soon."

The man gestured with his pistol to Reid. "Now, why don't we get started?"

"Started with what, where is Carolyn?"

His arms were beginning to shake from holding his weapon straight-armed in front of him.

"Put down the gun."

His voice was sharp as a razor, but his gun hand stayed as steady as a rock. He smiled at Reid, a sunny smile that so disarming, Reid nearly put down his gun. Then, the man's eyes flicked to the framed photograph sitting on Carolyn's coffee table. It was of her and Reid. He held her close and she was looking up at him with adoration, a huge smile on her face. He was grinning back at her. He remembered that day as if it had just happened.

"_Hey, Spencer," she threw the red balloon at him. _

_It exploded against the white tee shirt he wore, and showered him with ice-cold water. He gasped while she laughed and pointed at him. _

"_So that's the w-way you w-want to play," he retorted. "We'll s-see about that." He charged her with an orange balloon. She tried to run, but she was laughing so hard, she lost her strength. He hit her with his balloon at point blank range, not that it mattered. She was already soaked from balloons thrown by other partygoers at the hospital's annual family picnic. _

"_Stop it!" She hollered. "I can't breathe," she gasped as he tickled her._

"_N-not until you apologize for using your w-wiles to catch me off g-guard." _

"_S-stop it, please…" _

_He lifted her up off her feet and hugged her close in his arms. She turned her lovely eyes on him, and he marveled at her beauty despite her wet hair plastered to her face. Her cheeks were pink with laughter and exertion. Somewhere he heard someone else laughing and shutter click…_

"Dr. Reid."

He blinked and the man was there with his gun, and Reid remembered where he was and his stomach knotted up.

"For the last time, put down the gun or I will walk out of here and you'll never see your precious Carolyn again."

Reid lowered his gun.

"That's right, now put it on the end table there and pick up that phone."

"Why?"

His captor smiled again and there was madness in his eyes behind the rimless glasses he wore. "Do as you're told."

Reid put down the gun and picked up the phone. It was a disposable cell phone, the kind sold in grocery stores with prepaid cards.

"Now, dial Agent Hotchner's phone and tell him whatever you need to tell him to convince him to stay in Richmond. You and I are taking a little trip."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

The man sighed and his expression was that of a man tested to the limits of his endurance.

"I told you, you'll never see Carolyn again if you don't do exactly as I say. Now, I am fast losing my patience.

Reid looked into the man's eyes and there was nothing there but the same cold, blank wall he'd seen a hundred times before with serial killers.

"Alright, I'll call him."

"No tricks, Dr. Reid, or your girlfriend dies. Try to use your gun on me and you'll never find her in time to save her from what I have planned.

Reid's hands shook so hard he couldn't make them dial the number. "What did you do to her?"

"Just dial the number."

He dialed and listened as the phone rang. He tried to think of something, anything to tip off Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, um, it's Reid. Listen, I'm not feeling well. I can't make it down to Richmond today."

There was a pause and Hotch said. "What's going on, Reid? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, um I think I have the flu. I just woke up feeling crappy so I think I'll just stay here."

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well. We could really use your help."

Reid cut his eyes to the man, who stood with his gun on Reid. There had to be something he could say.

"It's okay, Hotch. You might as well give up anyway. We never had a chance of catching this un-sub.

"Reid, that's not like - "

"I saw the lack of news reports yesterday. You antagonized the situation, by getting JJ to use her media contacts that way."

"Reid, what are you doing? Is something wrong?"

"I have a doctor's appointment. It'll take me exactly thirteen minutes to get there with the traffic if I leave now. I have to go."

He shut the phone and began to reach for his gun.

"Don't move," the man ordered.

Reid stood back with his hands in the air. "Take the phone, but leave your cell phone," the intruder commanded. "We're going to leave now. You want to go quietly or maybe one of your girlfriend's neighbors gets hurt if you try to signal someone."

"I won't try."

The man stuck the gun into his suit jacket pocket. "This is pointed at your back. Start walking. We'll take your car."

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"What's wrong, Hotch," JJ said when Hotch lowered his phone to his pocket.

"Something's happened with Reid?"

"How do you know?" Morgan asked.

"He said he was sick and can't come in."

Messerly and Wo both put down their case files and stared up at Hotch. "What?" Messerly said in disbelief.

"He's not sick." Hotch said. "Something else was wrong."

"How do you know?" Morgan repeated.

Hotch related their conversation, including the stress he'd heard in Reid's voice. "I don't think he was alone."

"Why would he say we never had a chance to catch this guy?"

Messerly pushed back from the table. "Are you sure your agent doesn't know more than he's saying?"

"Messerly," Morgan began.

"I just think it's odd that your agent was invited here and now you're saying he's flaking out on us."

"That's not what he's saying," Morgan growled.

"Then why would he just call up and say we were wasting our time? What does he know that you're not telling me?"

"There isn't anything we're not telling you."

"Stop it." Rossi commanded as the two men stepped closer to each other with murder in their eyes.

"Yes, there's something else going on and we need to figure it out." Hotch said.

Morgan's phone beeped. He backed away from Messerly, but his face was still murderous. "Morgan," he barked into the phone.

"Wow, simmer down, gorgeous," Penelope, said.

"Sorry, baby girl," he said, and rubbed at his head. "What have you got?"

"I think I found something that might interest you."


	14. Hotch makes the Connection

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

_**Hotch makes the Connection**_

"What have you got for us, Garcia?"

"I did some digging on the type of knife used on the victims. I got a definite match to the wounds from a reconstruction our lab did. The ME uses similar equipment, but I was able to dig out that they're used in prison infirmaries, too. They're manufactured by a firm out of Chicago and shipped all over the country. I'm trying match recent purchases, but it's taking some time."

"Hurry Garcia, Reid's in trouble."

"Well yeah, he's got a psycho fan that wants to impress him."

"It's more than that," Morgan informed her.

"What? What happened now?"

"Morgan," Hotch snapped.

"Not now, just call me when you've got something."

He disconnected from her and relayed what she'd told him about the knives used on the victims. "I'll get a couple of guys on that," Messerly said. "I know your computer tech is the best, but we need more eyes on this."

"Does that mean you've changed your mind about Reid?"

Messerly raised one eyebrow, but he continued to just sit back in his chair and watch Morgan as if he was a very interesting new species of animal.

Hotch was paging through missing person's reports. "I think I've got something," he said.

He pulled out six missing persons that all resembled the same physical type as their victims. "All of these women worked with children in some capacity in their work. April and Sandra were teachers. Donna Emmet worked in a day care. Allison Peterson was a stay at home mother, Jody Kennedy worked at CPS, Victoria Lightner specialized in child psychology and Dixie Parker was a kids clothing designer.

"So they all worked with kids," Rossi said. "What does that mean?"

"I don't think it means anything," JJ said. "I think it's just something else to throw us off the track. Everything he's done is to confuse the issue.

"JJ's right," Hotch said. "He's only after Reid. Everything else is window dressing. We know he made a mistake leaving that fiber behind, but I don't think the knives were a mistake."

"Reid said that it would take him exactly thirteen minutes to reach the doctor's office with the traffic. Why throw that into the conversation if he just wanted to tell me he wasn't coming in for the day?"

"It's some kind of code," JJ said. "He wasn't alone."

"That's my thoughts. Someone was there and they're holding something over his head. I could hear it in his voice."

"For a group of profilers, you're all great at not seeing the obvious," Rossi interjected.

"What are you talking about?"

"Reid's got a girlfriend."

Everyone went so silent; it was as though they all had turned into statues, except for Messerly.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Why else would he just blow off the day and talk to Hotch in code? You do that if someone is threatening you or someone you care about."

"How do you know he's seeing someone?"

Rossi glanced over at Morgan. "I know because I pay attention to his behavior."

"What happened to the moratorium on inter-team profiling?" JJ wanted to know.

"I think it's a little late for that."

"Still I don't think its right to -"

"People," Messerly shouted over them. "Can we get back to the point? I don't care if your Dr. Reid is sleeping with the devil himself. Let's get back to this so called code."

"He's right; "Hotch said impatiently. "We'll worry about Reid's love life later. He said thirteen minutes. Why that time frame?"

"You said he also told you that he wanted to breath the fresh air, and that you antagonized the situation by holding off the press." Wo said to Hotch. "Does that mean anything to you?"

Hotch's phone rang. "Hotchner," he said crisply.

"My liege," Garcia said. "I have more news for you."

"I'm putting you on speaker phone."

"Well kiddies," she said and Messerly smirked at Wo. He liked this woman.

"I found something." She said with a cat that swallowed the canary tone. "There was a theft of medical supplies last year from Bridgeport Correctional Institution. They never found out who took the supplies. Included in the theft, were the type of scalpels and knives used on our victims, along with some drugs and linens. Get this, some of the drugs taken, included Dilaudid and Narcan."

"Thank you, Garcia," Hotch said.

"I'll keep digging."

"There's no need," Hotch disagreed. "Just find me all current information on Warden Abner Merriman."

Every eye in the room was on him as he disconnected the phone over Garcia's curious questions. "What was that all about?" Messerly wanted to know. "Who's Abner Merriman?"

"He was the warden at Bridgeport Correctional, when Reid and I went there to do a custodial on Chester Hardwick."

"Wait," Wo said, "Wasn't he executed a few years back for the murders of several young women."

"Yes," Morgan said. "He lured Hotch and Reid there, and then tried to kill them so he could prolong his life."

Now Messerly was regarding Hotch with keen interest. "He tried to kill you."

"He threatened to kill both of us. Reid saved the situation by talking to him until the guards came. It was the longest thirteen minutes of my life. I'll never forget it."

"Wait, you said thirteen minutes," Messerly said. "I thought this Chester Hardwick got that gas chamber."

"He did, but Abner Merriman was a little too interested in the crimes and he admitted to studying serial killers as a hobby. He was very impressed with Reid and the articles he wrote on offenders. It all makes sense now."

Rossi nodded slowly. "He's become what he studied. He decided to up the stakes by bringing in Reid because he admires him. I'm sure he must have heard about how Reid talked Hardwick down, which can't have been easy."

"I still don't understand the reference to antagonizing the situation," Messerly said. "It seems to me he did the exact opposite."

"He's talking about me. As I said, Hardwick brought us there under the guise of wanting to talk about his crimes. Instead, he just wanted to make sure we were there at a time when the guards were too far away to help. You see, I was the one that thought we were safe. I agreed to take his chains off for the talk. When I realized he was just playing, I buzzed for the guards, it was then he said they were out in the yard for evening exercise and it would take thirteen minutes to get back. He said he'd killed in less than five."

"I'm not proud of what I did, but I egged him on. I said I wasn't a five-foot tall, one hundred pound girl. I took off my coat and I would have taken him on, had Reid not stepped in. He saved us both. I was angry at the whole world because of Haley and the divorce and I let it cloud my judgment."

They were all very silent again. Messerly spoke up first. "What did he mean about there's no chance to stop him."

"It was the last thing Reid said to Hardwick. He told him he didn't have a chance because of his unhealthy relationship with his mother and the mental illness in his family. Hardwick asked him as the guards were chaining him, if he really meant it, and Reid said, "I don't know, maybe."

"So he was just stringing him along," Messerly said. "I like this guy."

"Make up your mind." Morgan said irritably.

"Hey, I'm just trying to find a killer. No one is happier than me to know that Dr Reid doesn't have anything to do with this guy. I mean that."

"Let's get to work on finding him. If he has done something to Reid or his girlfriend, time isn't on our side."

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It took them an hour, but they finally arrived at a huge, two story home on the James River. All the homes in the area were large estates with private drives for security. The house Merriman made him drive to was the largest he'd ever seen and surrounded by trees and huge, perfectly kept, green lawn.

The air was redolent with the scent of the pines around the house when Merriman forced him out of the card. They walked toward the front porch. A bird flew overhead as his shoes scrunched in the dirt and over the grass in the front yard. He noticed an SUV parked and backed up to the house, but no one else was around.

Merriman motioned Reid forward with the gun. "Let's go in and see your beloved Carolyn."

Reid looked around as he preceded Merriman up the grey marble stairs and into the house. There didn't seem to be any way out of this, at least not for now.

"This place has been in my family for generations, but my ex-wife hated it. She left me two years ago for someone at work. She said we'd just grown apart. I should have killed the bitch when I had the chance. Luckily, I have my own money from my father's side of the family. He always called himself a land developer, but he was a land swindler that died in prison just after my wife left. He was smart enough to hide his profits off shore, in an account he shared with me just before he died. It was such a relief to quit that job as a warden."

Reid entered the house in front of Merriman and it wasn't what he expected. It looked like that kind of place you'd see on an old southern plantation, with heavy wood furniture in the living area, hard wood floors and a huge fireplace. The red velvet upholstered, S back sofa looked like it had never been used and there was a portrait of a man with a full head of white hair and sour expression sitting in front of the same stone fireplace.

"There's dear old dad now." Merriman said. "Keep going, Dr. Reid."

There were stairs to his right, but Merriman herded him into a kitchen where everything was modern and didn't go with the last century feel of the living area. It was as though that were a museum and this was where Merriman really lived.

He opened a door situated to the left of the back door and gestured again with his gun. "Now, your lady is waiting for you."

Reid looked down and saw that they were about to enter a basement and his heart jumped into his throat. Merriman flicked on a light and Reid winced at the blood red light seeping out of the stairway like a miasma.

"Get moving." Merriman poked him in the ribs with the gun. "Your precious Carolyn doesn't have much time for dawdling."


	15. The Choice

**_Disclaimer:see my profile_**

**_The Choice_**

He squinted against the scarlet light that appeared to drip, rather than shine on the bright yellow walls. His shoes squeaked on the concrete steps like finger nails on a chalkboard. He shuddered as though someone had turned the air conditioner on high.

"Keep moving, Dr. Reid."

He jumped a little because he'd forgotten, for just a few seconds that a lunatic followed him into the abyss.

"Around the corner, if you please."

He stepped around the corner the same way he'd clear a house in a raid. He couldn't seem to remember that he didn't have a gun and he wasn't with his teammates. All he could think about was Carolyn.

The hall, painted the same sickly yellow, but this time lit with a bright white light, led him to a door.

"Open the door please."

He reached out for the knob, but his trembling hand wouldn't turn it. His fingers slipped off the cold metal and he wiped them on his pants.

"I said, open the door."

The barrel of Merriman's gun pushed into the base of his spine. The pressure reminded him that there were things worse than death. He reached out and turned the knob.

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The first time Reid had gone through a door at a crime scene was with Gideon. He'd thought, at the time that seeing a woman ripped open from pubes to sternum lying on a ratty mattress with rats converging on her was the worst thing he'd ever seen. Nothing prepared him for Carolyn. Now, in the space of just one heartbreaking second, he felt what Hotch must have felt when Haley was killed. It was as if someone reached inside his guts and pulled them inside out. Pain, as he'd never felt before, not even with his headaches, crushed his soul.

"Carrie," he whispered.

Her environment appeared to be sterile, just like the rest of the basement. He could see that she was awake, but it didn't slow the racing of his heart, instead the beat increased to the point where he couldn't draw proper breath.

"L-let her g-go."

"Oh I don't think so, Dr. Reid. You see, I brought you here because I needed a way out."

"What do you want from me?"

Merriman laughed as the young man whipped around and shouted at him, "Temper, temper, Doctor. All I want is what's owed to me, but I don't intend to be famous from a prison cell."

"What do you want? Reid repeated, and to Merriman, he seemed to deflate like a balloon after the fair.

"I told you, I want to be famous."

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She opened her eyes and Spencer stood there staring at her as if he'd never seen her face. He looked like he'd had a glimpse into hell. She tried to scream out in case he wasn't a dream, but something covered her mouth. All that escaped was, "Mpmf."

He walked to her and her heart battered against the inside of her chest. It had to be some kind of waking dream because she couldn't move. She had to be suffering from the paralysis that sometimes kept her from exploding out of sleep when she had a nightmare. Yes, this was another nightmare because over Spencer's shoulder stood a man with a gun. He was the one that had come to her door, the one that said he knew Spencer. Oh, why had she believed him and let him in her apartment?

Spencer stopped and she strained against her bonds. She realized that she was sitting up instead of lying down. Why? It didn't make any sense. Spencer just stood there as she struggled to get free. Why didn't he come closer? Why didn't he help her?

Sweat poured down her face as she strained against her bonds. Her wrists burned and her legs cramped. "Mmphf…" She tried to scream again.

Spencer turned around and she couldn't see what he said to the man behind him. Maybe he'd done something to make her unable to hear. _Help me," _she screamed in her head.

Her eyes wheeled around in her head as she tried to swallow but her throat was so very dry. Her lips felt like were on fire. Tears ran down her face, over her chin and down the old tee shirt she wore with a pair of battered sweat pants.

She tried to twist her wrists out of their bonds, but they were too tight and the more she struggled, the more they cut into her skin. Red blood welled up around the plastic restraint on her left arm and she tried to scream again, but it only came out as a muffled grunt.

Spencer's hands rose to the level of his head and it appeared that he was trying to bang on something. It must be some kind of glass, she thought crazily. Why would someone put glass up here? Oh God, what was happening, and why didn't Spencer do something to the man that stood there watching her with cold, dead eyes. Maybe Spencer didn't care about her anymore since she'd all but ordered him to quit his job. She began to sob, her breath coming out in great hitches through her nose, as though she'd spent too much time swimming under water.

Sweat blinded her, turning Spencer and the man into wavering shapes that bent and flowed around her vision. She blinked against the sting of the salty liquid as it ran down her face, and down her back.

_Help me please, Spencer. I'm sorry. _

Tears joined the sweat on her face, drenching her chin and running down her throat to the collar of her shirt. Her nose ran and her mouth stung under the tape covering her lips. Her eyes wheeled to the right as another door opened. Spencer stood behind the glass, but the man was there next to her.

"Dr. Reid," he was saying. "Are you familiar with a drug called Hydromorphone?"

Her breathing sped up with her heart as she watched Spencer's face go white. She could see that he was shouting, but there was no sound. Why could the man talk to him, but Spencer couldn't hear her? Why did this man mention Dilaudid?

"The intravenous drip is set to deliver a 2 mg dose. I'm sure you know that a dose of this strength given to a woman the size of your beautiful Carolyn would most certainly be fatal."

She couldn't take her eyes off Spencer, who didn't move. He just stared at her in a strange way that made ice crawl over the skin of her extremities.

The man caressed her face with his finger, but she barely felt it because she had to make Spencer's eyes live again. Her captor dropped his hand down to her breasts and fondled her. She jerked away and he laughed. "Oh how I wish I could have you just once. Our time together would be so sweet."

He leered at her like a corpse in a fun house ride. His eyes were as smooth and empty as the carapace of a beetle. He slid his hand down her belly and between her legs. She bucked against him and he sighed. "Too bad," he whispered. "You feel so good."

She clamped down hard on her gorge as it rose out of the depths of her belly. Stomach acid burned her throat as she choked it back. He stroked her once and withdrew his hand. "I'll dream about you, Dr. Strickland, every night."

He suddenly reared back and slapped her face so hard, she saw stars. The pain exploded across her cheek like a bomb had gone off in her head. She sobbed and screamed against the tape and he laughed. She couldn't look at Spencer anymore. He'd seen what this awful man had just done. He'd hate her for allowing it. She closed her eyes and asked God for an end.

"Dr. Reid," he was saying. "I've decided to up the stakes a bit. Why don't we open the IV to full? I'd say that gives you just minutes to make up your mind, save her or stop me, it's your choice."

She opened her eyes and saw that this man was doing something with the IV stuck in her arm and taped so securely there was no way to easily remove it. The man smirked at her again and then he was gone.

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Merriman's words galvanized Reid out of his paralysis. Jesus, how could he just stand there while poison dripped into Carolyn's body?

_She's just like you, Satan. She's weak. _

_No! _

He clamped his hands over his ears to drown out the voice of Charles in his head. Carolyn was staring at him from swollen, red eyes. She'd stopped struggling, but he didn't know if it was the drug or that she'd lost the will to fight against her bonds.

He went to the door Merriman had used and yanked it open. "Carrie," he cried out hurrying to her side as his heart thumped like a jackhammer in his chest. "Stay with me. Don't close your eyes."

He pulled the tape off her mouth and she whimpered. "I'm here," he assured her, "you're going to be alright."

"Spencer," she whispered thickly, "I'm sorry."

"Shh… It's okay, just keep talking to me."

He turned in a circle, trying to take in the entire room at the same time. Carolyn sat up in a chair that looked like something out of a movie about a demented dentist. Her arms and legs were bound with zip ties. Her hair hung lank over her shoulders, and her mascara had run in streaks down her face. She was pale as moonbeams on a clear night, and sweat dotted her forehead.

"Don't move, just stay still." Her eyes fluttered shut, "Stay awake Carrie. I need you."

Her lovely eyes opened and she said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry."

Tears welled up in his eyes and his chest hurt from trying to keep them from spilling over his lashes. "You're going to be fine."

Her mouth turned up in a trembling smile. "I love you, sweet Spencer."

"Don't give up," he said and touched her abraded lips with his finger. "I'm going to find something to help you."

He looked around the room again, taking in the glass that surrounded it on three sides and the cabinets to the left and right of the chair holding Carolyn. He hurried over and began randomly opening them, pawing through the contents and scattering them to the floor.

"Just stay with me," he repeated as he searched. "I know he - ah yes here it is," he held out his find to her.

She didn't respond. Her eyes dropped closed and her head fell to the right. "Carolyn," he screamed.


	16. Near Miss

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Near Miss_**

He looked around the room again, taking in the glass that surrounded it on three sides and the cabinets to the left and right of the chair holding Carolyn. He hurried over and began randomly opening them, pawing through the contents and scattering them to the floor.

"Just stay with me," he repeated as he searched. "I know he - ah yes here it is," he held out his find to her.

She didn't respond. Her eyes dropped closed and her head fell to the right. "Carolyn," he screamed.

The syringe he'd found in the cabinet fell from his left hand and rolled across the silver painted floor. He barely heard it hit the cement as he leaned over Carolyn. Her head lolled on her chest. He put two shaking fingers to her neck.

"Don't be dead. Please don't be dead."

Her pulse was so faint he nearly missed it. His heart gave a great leap in his chest and tears spilled over the lower lids of his eyes when he found it.

He felt her chest rise just a little, and wanted to shout for joy. "Hold onto my voice, Carrie."

He had to pull away from her to find the syringe. His hands shook so badly he almost dropped it again, and getting the tip into the bottle of Narcan, he'd found proved all but impossible. He had to sit back on his heels and breathe in and out for a minute that seemed to stretch out for an hour, until his fingers worked again.

He fought down the inner disgust at ever using a syringe again and drew up just a half a milligram of the drug, made sure there was no air bubble and set it aside.

_Why don't you see if there's more Dilaudid. You could take a hit, and pretend that none of this ever happened. _

"No," he whispered-screamed, "I won't do it."

The bright tip of the needle hypnotized him like the flash of a coin in the hands of an expert mesmerist. He could push the Narcan out and refill it with some of the Dilaudid that he knew Merriman must have on hand. Why fight it? Carolyn was going to die anyway. It didn't matter how fast Narcan worked. It was too late, and it was his fault. He'd go out with her. In fact, it was poetic justice. He'd failed to stop Merriman and who knew how many more women would suffer because he'd been too slow to find him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Spencer," she spoke so quietly, it almost didn't get through his self-pity.

He looked down at her and her head moved, but she didn't open her eyes. His heart began to leap in his chest again. What was he doing just sitting there? She was dying and he was letting he happen.

He carefully inserted the needle into her arm and administered the dose. Her eyes snapped open. "What happened?"

Her eyes were clear and she was smiling at him. "Where am I?"

"Its okay, Carrie, I promise its all okay."

He pulled her into his arms and held her so tight she squirmed. "That man, what happened, where is he?" She said into his shoulder.

"He's gone; you're going to be okay."

"You have to go after him," She pushed at him, but she was too weak to move him away.

"No, I'm taking you to the hospital. We'll deal with him later."

"But, Spencer," she protested.

"I don't care about Abner Merriman, my team or anything else. I only care about you. If that means you want me to quit my job, then I will."

"Listen to me," she ordered as he pulled her up into his arms and stood.

"What?"

"I don't want you to quit your job. I understand now, what you fight for. I want you to keep fighting for it. I'm sorry I -"

"Shh… There's no apology needed." He started toward the door that separated the two sections of the basement. "Just hold onto me. We'll talk later."

"But Spencer -"

"Shh…" He said more forcefully. "We'll talk later."

He climbed up out of the abattoir and back into the kitchen of the Merriman estate at the same time Morgan entered with his gun out. "Jesus, Reid, where'd you come from." He holstered his gun. "I found Reid," he said for the others to hear.

In minutes, the team surrounded Reid. "You figured out my clues," he said to Hotch.

"Yes, but we'll talk about that later. Where is Merriman?"

Reid looked down at Carolyn who was looking around at his team with sleepy-eyed interest. "I don't know. He brought me here to ensure he'd get away."

Morgan smiled. "I don't think that's going to happen."

"How do you know?"

"We'll fill you in," Hotch said. "I think she needs medical attention."

"Yes, um, this is Dr. Carolyn Strickland, my girlfriend. He ignored Morgan's smirk as he introduced Carolyn. "This is my team, Hotch, David Rossi, JJ, and Morgan. You'll meet Garcia soon."

"Nice to meet you," she said with a small wave of the hand that didn't clasp Reid around the neck.

"Look guys, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Carolyn, it's just that -"

"Reid, your lady needs help. You can tell us all about it later," Rossi said.

They all smiled at him, even Hotch, which sent shivers down Reid's back. He liked it much better when the Unit Chief glowered.

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Detective Messerly steered his Explorer onto the dirt road, and braked a little to compensate for its battered condition. Despite the bumps and swells, the truck had no trouble negotiating it with four-wheel drive engaged.

"Tell me again, how you knew about this track?" Tony asked his partner.

Messerly glanced over at Wo in the bright light of the morning. "My great-grandfather used to run whiskey out of this area during Prohibition. In fact, most of this used to belong to my family, until we lost everything in the Depression. The family's strictly white and blue collar now. They're not very happy with my becoming a cop. I guess old habits die hard."

"I'm surprised the road is in as good a condition as it is."

"Most of the families that live on the James River in these old estates are wealthy. A Senator has a home a mile down the road. Perhaps he has a reason for keeping it open; as you can see though, only one car at a time."

Tony Wo watched the trees dapple midmorning shadows on the hood of the Explorer as they slowed a bit more for a particular rough spot in the dirt track Branches from dogwoods on either side of the vehicle brushed the Explorer with whispered sound like bare bones on steel. He closed out the image from his head and grinned over at his partner.

"What?"

"I keep thinking about TA Garcia and her reaction to the fact that this road wasn't on any of her maps."

Messerly chuckled. "Yeah, that was funny. Not even the old government revenuers knew about this road when my relatives and their friends put it in."

"And, as an officer of the law, you feel no compunction about that," Wo asked.

"Nope."

"You gotta admit that Garcia knows her stuff. As soon as Agent Hotchner gave her Abner Merriman's name, she had his address and everything there is to know about him."

"Hear something you like?" His partner teased.

"No, I just admire talent. Do you think we could poach her?"

"I highly doubt it."

They smiled at each other and then Wo sobered. "What if you're wrong and we're out here for nothing."

"So the feds get the collar. I don't care as long as we get this creep off the streets. They kind of deserve it with Dr. Reid's part in this."

Wo nodded, "I suppose so, but it wouldn't hurt my feelings if we catch him first."

"You got that right."

The trees seemed to close in even tighter to the black SUV as they drove. Another three miles passed until they reached a sharp bend in the road that brought them closer to the edge of the James River. Messerly rounded the curve to the left and jammed on the brakes.

"Looks like we got him," he said grimly to Wo."

Messerly took his foot off the brake and pressed down on the gas pedal. The truck leapt forward down the straight stretch of road toward the SUV that continued toward them without hesitation. "Messerly," his partner said. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry; I know what I'm doing."

Tony checked to see that his seatbelt was in place. "I didn't sign up to play chicken with a psycho, and if you wreck this truck, the captain will take it out of your hide."

"I said I know what I'm doing."

Tony squinted his eyes against the sun as the two trucks pulled closer and closer. All he could hear was the roar of the engine and the beat of his heart. He bounced around in his seat as Messerly was testing the suspension of the truck to its limits.

"I know what I'm doing," Messerly repeated as the sun slanted down into his eyes.

He pushed up his glasses and clenched the wheel tight as they faced each other down on the road only wide enough for one car at a time. He didn't hear the branches whipping past the truck and smacking it hard.

"He's not going to stop," Wo shouted.

"He will," Messerly shouted back as the SUV grew large in his windshield. "I think."

"You think," Wo shouted. "You're crazy."

The other SUV roared toward them and at the last second turned out and crashed through the underbrush. Messerly's and Wo's truck kissed the back bumper, and the crash sounded loud enough that Wo thought the truck was disabled. Messerly brought it to a sideways stop. They leapt out of the truck and drew their guns.

"Out of the truck, Merriman," Messerly shouted. "You're under arrest."

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Reid rode in the ambulance with Carolyn. The paramedics said she was going to be okay, but he couldn't let her out of his sight.

"How are you?"

She smiled her beautiful smile that had so entranced him the day he met her. "I'm fine, Dr. Reid. You didn't think a little thing like a Dilaudid overdose would keep me down."

He grimaced and looked down at his shoes. Suddenly, the back of the ambulance was way too small. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths as the wailing of the siren spun around him endlessly.

He felt a small hand reach out for him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have joked."

"No, it's okay. I'm fine. I just can't believe how close I came to losing you."

"But still, I should have -"

He squeezed her hand as the medic took another set of vital signs and adjusted the nasal cannula that delivered oxygen to the woman he loved more than his own life. "I'm fine… Just concentrate on getting better."

"Spencer, I really -"

"Carrie," He touched her face with one long finger. "Please just concentrate on getting better, okay."

She stared at him with the expression he knew very well, the one that said he was in for it soon. He smiled at her. "I love you, Carrie Strickland."

"I love you too, Spencer Reid."

She clutched his hand and he put his free hand into his pocket to touch the medallion that was always there. He'd passed another test, so why did he feel like he'd failed?


	17. The Dog Days of Summer

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Dog Days of Summer_**

Carolyn strapped on her fanny pack, and reached for the sealed Tupperware bowl containing her masterpiece. She'd spent most of the previous day working on the dessert she'd promised to take to the barbeque, but it had been worth the effort.

"Let me carry that," Spencer said.

"I can manage."

"My mother taught me to be considerate," he reached for the bowl. "I intend to do as she always said."

Carolyn narrowed her eyes. "I think you just want to sneak a taste."

"How can I touch it, when I'm driving?"

"You'll find a way."

"I think you're a bit paranoid."

He tucked a blanket into his messenger bag and reached for the dessert container.

"Alright, but only because we're going to be late if we don't leave now."

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An hour later, they arrived at Rosewood Park where Garcia had reserved a pavilion for their party. Carolyn staggered under the weight of the late August heat as they exited Reid's Volvo and gathered their contribution to the picnic.

"Whew," she gasped. "Now I know why they call it the dog days of summer."

Reid picked up the dessert and nodded. "Actually the term 'dog days of summer,' refers to the warmest, most sultry days of the summer, usually in July and August in the Northern Hemisphere. The name comes from the ancient belief that, Sirius, also called the Dog Star, in close proximity to the sun, was responsible for the hot weather."

Carolyn adjusted her sunglasses and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. "Count on you to know the answer."

He smirked at her. "Come on; let's get in out of the heat."

She took his hand with her free arm and breathed in the smell of freshly cut grass. The sky was a cerulean blue with a few fluffy clouds that looked like balls of cotton. The air was stagnant and heavy as it had been for weeks without surcease. Mother Nature had body slammed DC and the city stumbled under her heavy hand. Still, Garcia had talked them all into a barbeque, and no one had the heart to say no.

"Carolyn," Reid said. "You're cutting off the feeling in my hand."

She looked down to see that her hand held so tight to his, that her fingers were turning white at the knuckles.

"Oh sorry," she let go.

"I didn't mean you had to let go," he complained.

"I'm sorry; I guess I'm just really nervous."

He stopped her at the crest of the slight hill that overlooked the playground and their pavilion. "Why?"

"I haven't seen your team since…"

Reid curled an arm around her shoulder. "You don't think they'd judge you because of Abner Merriman?"

She bit her bottom lip. "No, but what if -"

"No," he hugged her tighter as they walked slowly down the hill. "I promise you that no one will judge you. You were the victim. If anything, they might be upset that I didn't tell them about you for so long."

"If they are, I'll give them something to think about."

He grinned down at her. "I love you, my little golden spitfire."

"Who're you calling little?" She planted her feet and glared up at him.

"Sorry, my Queen."

"Oh stop it," she punched him lightly on the forearm.

"Uncle Spence."

They turned to see Henry running at them full speed. He jumped into Reid's arms, knocking his messenger bag from his shoulder. "Hey, buddy, I'm so glad to see you."

Henry hugged him hard around the neck. "I miss you, Uncle Spence."

"Me too."

Henry eyed Carolyn and poked Reid in the cheek, "Who her?"

"This is my friend Carolyn."

"Carwyn," Henry repeated.

"You must be Henry," Carolyn smiled. "I've heard a lot about you. Spencer told me that you're his special helper with magic and that you like puzzles."

Henry nodded. "I like magic tricks."

"Why don't you walk with me back to the picnic table? You can tell me all about your puzzles."

Henry looked at Spencer, who nodded solemnly. "Carolyn's the best."

He strolled along behind them and watched as Carolyn chatted easily with Henry about his new puppy, magic, soccer, and his puzzles. If only it was as easy for him to talk to kids. He shrugged and smiled, not everyone had the same gifts. That was something Carolyn had taught him. She'd saved him from loneliness and the belief that no woman, other than his mom, could love him.

JJ and Will met them as they entered the pavilion. It was warm, even with the shade, but at least he could take off his sunglasses.

"Hi guys," he greeted them with a wave.

"It's good to see you," JJ said.

"How are you, Spencer?"

"I'm good Will. I don't think you've met Carolyn."

She shook his hand. "This is a very charming little man you've got here."

JJ grinned at her. "He's just like his dad."

Will hugged her around the waist. "Thanks darlin'."

"It's nice to meet you," Carolyn continued. "Spencer said you're from New Orleans.

"Yeah, born and raised, but I left for JJ."

"Oh that's so sweet."

JJ rolled her eyes. "Please don't encourage him."

"She's just mad because I had to beg her to tell everyone about us."

Carolyn raised her eyebrows and flicked her gaze over to Reid. "You kept Will a secret?"

"Yeah, don't remind me."

"That's why JJ won't hold your secret against ya." Will drawled to Carolyn. "She knows what it's like."

"JJ's good a keeping secrets."

"Spence…"

"Sorry, JJ, look let's go say hello to the rest of the party."

Hotch, and the others were crowded around the table at the far end of the pavilion. Jack looked over at them and hurried over to Reid.

"Hi, Uncle Spencer."

"Hey, Jack."

"Reid," Garcia greeted him enthusiastically.

Her blond hair was in two long pigtails at either side of her head, with a red rose stuck behind one ear. She wore a pair of red Capri pants and a red and yellow print blouse. She'd limited her jewelry to a pair of dangling red rose earrings and a chunky necklace that matched the yellow in her blouse. She'd forgone the high heels for a pair of high top red sneakers and yellow socks with a bit of lace around the edges. She hugged Reid hard and smiled at Carolyn.

"You must be the mysterious Carolyn."

"You have to be Garcia."

"In the fabulous flesh."

"I think I like her, Spencer."

"It's about time you two showed up."

Reid rolled his eyes at Morgan who stood over Carolyn and grinned at her, "Nice to see you again."

"Hi, Agent Morgan."

"You can call me Derek, little mama."

She smiled at him and Reid coughed into his hand. "I think I'll stick to Agent Morgan."

Everyone, including Hotch, laughed. They gathered around the table and Garcia began taking drink orders.

Carolyn and Reid sat down near Beth and Hotch. Beth stuck out her hand. "I'm Beth, nice to meet you."

"I'm Dr. Carolyn Strickland. You must be Hotch's lady."

Beth laughed, "Yeah, I guess I am. Welcome to this strange little family."

"Thanks, I think I need someone to help me with the ropes for dealing with the life of a profiler."

"I'd be happy to help."

Reid choked on the soda Garcia had given him despite wanting coffee. She'd said it was too damn hot for his favorite beverage.

Rossi sniggered and Morgan clapped Reid hard on the back as he passed behind him. "Looks like your girlfriend found an ally."

"And me," JJ said.

"Me three," Garcia chimed in. "We're all going shopping at the earliest opportunity."

"Garcia," Reid squeaked.

"Oh hush you," she ordered. "Go back to drinking your soda."

Everyone laughed as Reid went very pink in the face. Carolyn leaned up and kissed his cheek. Garcia clapped her hands and cheered.

"Can I have some root beer, daddy?" Jack demanded into the laughter.

Hotch nodded his ascent to Jack and started to stand up. "Don't worry about it, Agent Hotchner, Beth and I will take care of Jack and Henry. I still need to get to know them better."

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Reid stood at one of the cinder block columns that held up the roof over the park's pavilion. Evening was descending over the park like some beautiful angel with wings spun from golden and rose light. He gazed at Carolyn who was sitting on the blanket he'd brought, that she'd spread on the grass after the sunset. The boys were there listening to her read from one of the books JJ had brought. They seemed spellbound by her voice.

The rest of the men, but for Rossi, were playing touch football in the waning light, and the women were cheering them on.

"She's remarkable," Rossi said at his shoulder and startled him yet again.

"Yes, she is remarkable," he agreed with reverent fervor.

"I'm glad you finally found someone special. You deserve her."

"Thanks, Dave."

"You're a lucky man, Spencer. I envy you."

Spencer tore his eyes away from Carolyn. "Um, Rossi, I was wondering… well, I have been thinking that -"

"Don't worry about it. Your Carolyn and mine are two very different people. Hearing that name doesn't bother me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, now stop standing here on the outside looking in and go enjoy your lady."

Reid gave him a tiny smile. "Come out here with us."

"No, I think I'm going home."

"Please don't go."

"It's okay. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

He watched Reid join his Carolyn on the blanket with the boys. Henry climbed into his lap and for just a minute, Rossi's heart hurt so much he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep back tears. If only he'd had just one moment with Carolyn and James like this. He turned away and strolled through the pavilion and out into the deep purple twilight falling like rain over the park.

**_A/n thank you all for your support of this story. Please watch for the last chapter coming tomorrow. Reid's info about the Dog Days of Summer is taken from wikipedia._**


	18. Epilogue

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Epilogue_**

Déjà vu was strange feeling, he thought as he followed the guard into Warden Carpenter's office. This time he was alone, by his own choice, but the feeling of history repeating itself was so strong, he flinched when the outer door opened and the warden stepped out to greet him.

_What did you expect, Abner Merriman?_

In fact, he did expect to see Merriman, but not without restraints and guards very close by.

"You must be Dr Reid."

Gratitude cancelled out the unnerving sense of repetition he felt because Carpenter was over six feet tall, with coffee colored skin, and short black hair, grey at the temples. He wore a goatee like Rossi and his black eyes glittered. He had the bearing of someone with military discipline.

"Yes, I am," he waved instead of offering his hand to the big man.

"Good to meet you. I admit that I'm a bit surprised that the Federal Board agreed to let you see Abner Merriman. You were a victim -"

"This isn't about me," Reid interrupted. "I'm here because Abner Merriman is on death row for the murder of two women in Richmond VA, as you know. I'm sure you also know that they weren't the only women he brutalized. He's agreed to give names and locations of the remains. He won't talk to anyone but me. I didn't ask for this honor, or his obsession with me. He nearly killed my girlfriend. The last thing I want to do is lay eyes on him, let alone talk to him."

Carpenter shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the door. "Then follow me. We have a room set up for you. We've taken all the proper precautions. I assume you've surrendered your weapon."

"This isn't my first time in a Federal Correctional Facility."

Carpenter nodded, "As you say."

Reid followed two guards and Carpenter down a long concrete hall fronted on one side by barred windows. His nose twitched at the musty smell and the stench of sweat and despair, overlaid by the scent of bleach. They passed an electronic door painted grey like the rest of the prison and continued around the corner to another door.

A guard stood to their left in a small room with bulletproof glass and another grey door. Carpenter nodded and the guard pushed a button. The large electronic door slid open with a pop and loud buzz as the lock disengaged. They stepped through and it shut behind them. They traveled past more doors, along more corridors that ran around the outside of Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary.

"I'll leave you here. As you requested, we're monitoring and taping your conversation. If he gives you anything useful, we'll have a copy. We don't allow pencils or pens within the reach of the inmates for security purposes. I'm sure you understand."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Things have changed since your experience with Chester Hardwick. We don't allow visits with inmates that overlap with recreation periods now, so you'll only have," he looked at his watch, "about an hour."

"That'll be more than enough time, Warden Carpenter. I won't have to yank the information out of him. He wants to talk."

"Then I'll leave you here."

One of the guards, a man of medium build and blond hair wearing the dark brown uniform of the Department of Corrections, opened the door and Reid entered the small room that had a window the size of a handkerchief, no bars, and more grey walls.

Merriman sat at the table, looking the same except for his prison orange. He smiled up at Reid and gestured to the only other chair in the room. "It's good to see you, Dr. Reid. Why don't you have a seat?"

"We'll be right outside," the guard said. "Just press this button if you need us, or you're finished."

He indicated a red button on the wall.

He left, shut the door, and Reid sat down. Merriman put both his hands on the table, his chains clicking as his arms moved.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

Reid sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "I was intrigued. From a profiling standpoint, you're a very interesting puzzle."

"Am I?"

Reid shrugged. "You grew up in Virginia. You family life was normal from what I've been able to find out. You showed none of the outward signs of psychopathy when you were a child, no bed-wetting, starting fires, killing animals. You were married to the same woman for twenty-five years, no children and you went into corrections as your profession. Then, your wife left you for another man and your father died soon after. I have to ask myself, why she left after all that time. Was it your obsession with serial killers, or was it your impotence?"

Merriman laughed. "Oh, Dr. Reid, you amuse me. Your pitiful attempts to understand me are pathetic."

"I want to understand everything about you."

"Why?"

"I'm writing a book on you, Merriman. I need all the facts."

Merriman broke into a broad grin. "You're writing a book on little old me."

"Well yes, as I said, you are fascinating. I want to know all about those other women, the ones that came before Sandra Brewster and April Mckee."

"Shouldn't you be writing this down, for posterity," Abner grinned.

"Sorry, the rules, but I have an excellent memory and I'm sure you know we are being recorded."

Abner shifted in his seat, and the chains clinked at the small movements. "I suppose I do. Well, let's get started then. The first woman I ever killed was the wife of one of my charges as a warden, Constance Hillman. Isn't that a wonderful name? She was so tiny and beautiful. She sat down in that chair across from me, and I suddenly thought, what would it be like to kill this woman, to be what I admired? So, I found out where she lived and I grabbed her one night. She trusted me, you see.

Oh, it was so glorious, Dr. Reid. You have no idea the power in taking a life. You call what happened to me a psychotic break, but I call it a sanity break. You see, everyone that walks on this earth is in prison, except for a small few. We, the free ones, as I call us, know what it's really like to break away from the chains of so-called civilized life.

When I killed her, when I watched the life drain away from her, I was totally free. She knew that I had complete power over her. It was ecstasy, better than the finest wines, food or even sex. It's a high you can't buy, or steal. You have to experience it for yourself to understand."

Reid listened for nearly an hour as Merriman laid out the murders he'd committed with names, dates and disposal sites in Connecticut, Maryland and Virginia over the course of two years.

"Why didn't you continue your hobby, as you call it, in anonymity? You had a good system. We might never have caught you, but you brought me into the game."

Merriman laughed again. "You already know the answer to that question. I was bored and I wanted to be famous. Now, with your book everyone will know my name. I'll live on so it doesn't matter what happens to me, if I live or die. I've been a God, Dr. Reid. You can't understand that and I pity you."

"Why don't we agree to disagree about your philosophy on life?"

Merriman grinned wolfishly. "I'm truly sad that you'll never understand or feel what true freedom is like."

Reid shrugged his shoulders. "I did have one last question. Why did you choose Dilaudid? A dangerous drug suppresses breathing. Why take the chance?"

Merriman raised one eyebrow. "Why, it was easy to get hold of, and the Narcan worked so well as a counter, don't you think?

Reid pushed back his chair. "I think we're done here." He reached for the button and pushed it.

"When will you send me a signed copy of your book?"

Reid stared into Abner Merriman's emotionless eyes. "I lied… I have no intention of writing a book about you. I can't control what others might do, but as far as I am concerned, you can rot in hell, forgotten and alone."

"No!" Abner screamed and leaped to his feet. "You promised me. I'll kill you. You'll beg for death!

"You're nothing and you can't hurt me," Reid said softly. "I win and you lose."

The guards entered just as Merriman lunged at him. "You're dead. I'll make it happen. I have connections here."

"No, you don't," Reid said with a genuine smile. "Everyone hates you because you're a wanna be. You're not a God, Merriman and the inmates in this place know it."

Merriman lunged again. "Settle down," the blond guard was saying as Reid left with the third guard that had joined them. Spencer smiled for first time in a long time as he walked away to join the outside world once more.

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He stood on the outside of Leavenworth and studied the walls that housed some of the worst criminal minds in the world, as he waited for his ride. The weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders as he stared at the stone walls. Merriman had it wrong. Reid knew true freedom of spirit now. A man like Merriman would never understand.

A car pulled up and he turned when one of the windows purred down. "Hey Spencer, what ya say we blow this Popsicle stand."

He broke out laughing and hurried around to the driver's side. "Carolyn Strickland, what would I do without you?"

She pulled his face down and kissed him breathless. "And you wanted to come here alone," she clucked. "It's a good thing I talked you out of that loser idea."

"I just didn't want you within a thousand miles of Abner Merriman," he said.

She took his hand as she got out of the SUV. She turned it over and began to trace the lines on his palm. He shivered pleasantly. "It's been a year and I am so much better than fine, because of you."

"I just want you to feel safe," he said as he traded places with her and took his place behind the wheel.

"I do. Please don't worry about me so much."

"That's never going to change," he said seriously.

"Do I need to ask if you got what you came for? Did he say anything?"

He shook his head at her significant stare. "He doesn't know. It was just coincidence that he used Hydromorphone to control his victims. It doesn't matter, because I got it all."

He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a small object. He stared at it as thought it might contain the secrets of the universe. "It's all right here. I can't believe the details of the wrongful deaths of twenty women are on this little flash drive."

"It doesn't diminish them, honey. You know that. It's what you fight for every day. I know that better than most people."

He looked out the window toward the prison. "I wish -"

She grabbed his hand. "Don't, what's done is done. In a way, I'm grateful to him. He showed me what you do is more important than I ever realized."

"It's not more important than you. I hope you know that."

She gave him a brightest smile, "I know."

"I've got the ruination of dozens of lives that are connected to those women, in my hand. How can I do that to them?"

"You'll do it because they'll finally have closure."

He looked deep into her violet eyes. "I don't believe in closure."

"You believe in me, right?"

"Of course, I do," he nodded solemnly.

"It's a good thing because I believe in you too."

"I'm ready to get out of here," he said, and he put the flash drive back in his pocket.

"Then, start the engine, my sweet Spencer. Let's go home. This Dorothy doesn't wanna be in Kansas anymore."

He laughed and shook his head. "What would I ever do without you?"

She pushed up her sunglasses and smirked at him. "You'll never have to find out because I'm sticking to you like glue."

He started the engine and pulled away from the prison. Tomorrow, he'd have to turn over the bad news to the families of those poor women, but for now, he'd try to believe what Penelope Garcia espoused, that everything happens for a reason.

_**THE END **_

_**A/n thanks again to all my faithful readers, those who have added this story to their favorites or reviewed. Also, thanks to my friend and beta REIDFANATIC for all of her advice and all the work she did on this story, for me. **_


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